Just What You're Worth
by Halcyonna
Summary: AU in which human-animal hybrids exist. Kurt is half-cat.  His parents died when he was young, and he was sent from abusive owner to abusive owner.  What happens when he is rescued by the charming, attractive, and loving young veterinarian named Blaine?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! So just a little background so you'll understand what this is about. I'm writing this for a prompt on the glee kink meme. It may sound strange at first, but bear with me, because I'm determined to make it as realistic as an AU can be. This takes place in a world where animal hybrids exist amongst humans – they are half human, half animal. They are naturally submissive, but only to their one true master and only on their own terms. So yes, there will be light d/s. Very sweet and loving with Blaine, but not so much with Kurt's future owners (see next paragraph)**

**Kurt is half-cat. His parents died when he was little, and he was sent to what is basically a low-budget pound for animal hybrids (like an orphanage in our world). He is sent from abusive owner to abusive owner, and eventually runs away from the pound, bloody and alone and feeling defective as a gay, submissive animal. Then he is rescued by a very attractive, very loving Veternatarian!Blaine and taken to his home. All sorts of comfort and loving ensue. This will be their story, but we'll first start with Kurt's backstory. I hope you'll enjoy this, and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think, or ask any questions about this story or universe that you may have! :]**

**Warnings for this chapter include spanking (brief) and I guess you could call it slight bondage, General abuse for our poor Kurt at first, I'm afraid. **

There are some things in life that you just don't ask for, because you can't even fathom their existence in the first place. You don't ask to be gay in a world in which you are a pariah for holding hands with your best friend. You don't ask to be an animal hybrid in a world in which half-animals are so often abused, neglected, and misunderstood by potential "masters." You don't ask for a perfect childhood with doting parents and warm home-cooked meals, only to be torn from your bed at midnight and told that your parents have been seized from you by fire or bad luck or maybe just the cruelty of fate. You don't ask to be sent to a pound that may as well be a life-long prison that promises only despair.

Yet when those things happen, when you are struck with shock that may never turn into acceptance, when your life is snatched from the clutch of your unsuspecting hands, you cope. You cope because there is nothing left. You cope because hope for any future at all is all that you have to live for. You cope because it is all you know how to do when your past life seems so distant that it never existed.

Such thoughts ran idly through a young Kurt Hummel's mind as he gazed into the mirror, brushing his slightly matted tail and fluffing the fur atop his head for what felt like the thousandth time. He had always taken pride in his appearance to maintain what little dignity he had left. Melvin, a hybrid dog, had pushed his face into his oatmeal earlier that morning, but even that hadn't broken his spirit. Someone had finally decided to adopt him, to love him and care for him and maybe even become his master someday. The man would be arriving shortly, and Kurt couldn't be more grateful or more excited. The days of living amongst hatred and neglect in the pound were over, and life promised only happiness in his future."

"So I hear the little faggot kitty-cat got a new owner," hissed Craig, his forked tongue slithering from his jagged sharp teeth dangerously close to Kurt's face.

Kurt gasped, instinctively leaping away from the snake hybrid who was a few years his senior, his blue-grey eyes widening.

Craig grasped Kurt's polka-dotted bow tie and yanked the boy towards him, the stink of his breath drifting into Kurt's face and making his eyes tear.

"You know what new owners do to little faggots like you, don't you? They lock you up in the bathroom, use you for only a good fuck once in a while."

Kurt let out a choked-up sob. His fingernails instinctively sharpened into claws, and the light hair on his back stood up, but he froze, unable to do anything but gaze in horror into the older boy's cold, mean gaze.

"Come on, Craig, leave him alone," drifted a warm, soothing voice from behind him.

Kurt exhaled loudly in relief as Melinda, a thirty year old cat hybrid and the only one who had ever really cared for him, grasped Craig by the nape of his neck and pulled him away.

"Come on, sweetie. Don't let him get to you." She wiped Kurt's tears away and stroked his back soothingly. "Today's supposed to be a special day for you."

She left out the fact that her first "special day" in which someone had chosen to take her into their home really wasn't all that special. She had gone hungry for three days, been forced to clean the chimney until her fingers bled and her eyes were bleak and her body reeked of ash and sickness and death. She had been sent back to the shelter, never again willing to leave the pound, and so when she became of age, she chose to volunteer there and work with the other animals.

Kurt sniffled and accepted her hand as she helped him off the ground.

"You look beautiful, honey," she reassured him as she smoothed his shirt and straightened his bow tie. "You're going to make a lucky owner very happy."

Kurt smiled and fisted away the rest of his tears.

"Now come on, Kurt, Kevin's waiting for you outside."

"Kevin?"

"He's decided to adopt you."

"Oh." Kurt felt suddenly nervous and uncomfortable. What if his eyes weren't bright enough, or his ears weren't fluffy enough, or he just wasn't what Kevin was looking for? People adopted for a variety of reasons, some just out of good will, and others looking to find an animal hybrid to eventually fall in love with and be their master, and others…well, he wouldn't think about the others. He couldn't.

So Kurt pasted a hopeful smile on his face and walked with a bounce in his step over to the front room.

"Kevin, we'd like you to meet Kurt."

The man, who had only before seen a picture of Kurt, ran a calm, cool gaze up and down his body. Kurt repressed the urge to fold his arms over his body, uncomfortable with being looked at in such a manner.

"Come here, boy," he ordered harshly, and the man immediately pulled off Kurt's bowtie with a fist, thrusting it into his pocket and buckling a collar around his neck.

"Sir, I can assure you that the collar is completely unnecessary and that Kurt is very well-behaved and obedient. He's an individual, and there's no need to treat him like your pet," Melinda offered helplessly.

"With all due respect, _ma'am_," the man said mockingly, eyeing her coldly, "I believe this is my decision to make, and those of your kind should not be challenging the decisions of a _real_ human."

Melinda bit her lip, her fear of her previous owner overwhelming her as she hung her tail.

"Please, just take care of him," she murmured as Kevin pulled Kurt from the shelter by the leash.

Kurt choked a bit as he followed Kevin from the shelter. He felt disoriented and lost, and he barely knew what had happened until he arrived at Kevin's home. It was small and relatively unfurnished, and the smell made Kurt wrinkle his nose.

"Get on your hands and knees," the man growled, and Kurt whimpered but did so.

"This is how this is going to work," he said, shoving Kurt's head down when he tried to look him in the eye. "You're no longer a human at all. You're a cat. This is how you walk from now on, except when I decide that you are to kneel before me, your Master. You will prepare my meals and clean my house for me. You are not to speak unless spoken to, and you will address me as 'Sir.' You are not allowed to say 'no' to me, and you will obey me without hesitation. Understand, cat?"

"Yes."

The man brought the leather leash down harshly on Kurt's bottom, and Kurt mewled, arching his back.

"You are expected to refer to me as Master," Kevin growled. "Any future transgressions will be met with severe punishment."

He whipped Kurt's bottom five times more.

"Understand?"

There were tears in Kurt's choked voice as he responded, "Yes, Master."

"It's late now. I'm going to bed. Come."

Kurt struggled to hold back sobs as he followed the man up the stairs, his tail dragging on the floor.

"Take off your clothes."

Kurt began to do so, his hands shaking as he pulled off his pants.

"No. Don't get off of your knees."

Kurt struggled, but managed.

"Come here."

Kurt moved hesitantly towards the side of Kevin's bed, only to receive a harsh glare.

"You sleep at the foot."

That night, Kurt hardly slept as he shivered, fighting back sobs and avoiding kicks of the man's feet. He filled his mind with memories of lying in his bed at home, sweet, warm, and protected by his mother and father, of the comfort of Melinda's arms. But he would cope. He had to.

**I realize that this part is angsty, and I feel horrible for Kurt, but it will make his future relationship with Blaine all the sweeter. **


	2. Chapter 2

"Blaine, we've been through this before. I don't want those animals in our home. Not after what happened last time."

Looking defensive yet eager, as teenagers so often do when arguing with their parents, sat a young Blaine Anderson at the kitchen table.

"Dad, Sammy was a bad choice of a friend. I've made it perfectly clear that it was my own bad choice. But you can't just judge all animal hybrids based on one incident, albeit an unfortunate one. They're wonderful people-"

"Blaine. They're _animals_. They're not meant to be your friends. They're _submissives," _Mr. Anderson explained painfully slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"They're animals, yes, and we're humans. But we're all _people_."

"Look, Blaine. I'm not saying that you can't eventually own one to cook and clean your household or to use for a quick fuck. But you can't be inviting them to the house, _my_ house, as though they're your friends or your equals."

"But they _are_ my friends. They do just as well in school as I do. They're not allowed to join the Warblers yet because the administration is so traditional and narrow-minded, but I'm working on it, and they might be able to soon. I could never see myself keeping one in my house and treating him like a _slave_, like less than a person."

"They're biologically inferior for a reason. There's a reason they don't live by themselves. There's a reason they need to be owned by a human at all times. And besides, I've already come to terms with the gay thing. I've let your faggy little boyfriends run around the house. What else do you want from me? What if people saw my son hanging around with a bunch of animals in his spare time? What would my friends say? What would my neighbors say? Do you know what they would _think_ of me?"

"Dad," Blaine sighed, though his eyes remained passionate, "we live in a stuck-up, snotty, prejudiced town. Not everyone thinks the way you and your friends do."

The older man's jaw tensed and his hands clenched into fists. He had never laid a hand on his son, but Blaine still shrunk away, his heart beating faster and his knuckles whitening as he held tightly to the edge of the table.

"Don't you _ever_ speak to me so disrespectfully. I enable you to live here in this cushy little lifestyle, to go to your fancy little prep school, and to sing and dance and do Lord knows what with those other boys in the Canaries or whatever the hell it is." His voice rose in anger and frustration as he drew dangerously close to the curly-haired boy. "And all I ask in return is that you don't _humiliate_ me by hanging around with those filthy animals. You're a human being, damn it! ACT like one!"

His soft-hearted son cringed at the echo of his father's footsteps thudding away and the resounding slam of the front door.

.oO0Oo.

As fifteen-year-old Blaine ate his breakfast, a ten-year-old Kurt laid stiffly at the edge of Kevin's bed, cold and scrunched into a ball as he avoided the dream-induced kicks of his new master's feet.

Breakfast. Kevin had ordered him to cook all of his meals for him.

Kurt shivered in the cold of the morning and, when he was sure Kevin wasn't looking, leaped smoothly and gracefully from the bed and landed on the plushy carpet. He padded down to the kitchen, careful to remain on his hands and knees just in case Kevin was peeking though his sleeping half-lidded eyes.

The kitchen was tiny and putrid-smelling, with a sink full of grease-baked dishes and a garbage can filled to the brim with rotting food. Kurt mewled at the thought of _living _here and made his way over to the window, pressing his nose firmly against the glass. The window was freezing yet soothing in its familiarity, and Kurt purred lightly, reveling in the deep blue sky and blades of grass like fingers reaching towards the sun. Mornings had always provided him with a sense of deep calm and wonder, and he relaxed into one of the only familiarities he had left.

The night had left him skittish and afraid, yes, but the morning soothed him, and so Kurt undertook the new day with a sense of peace and hope. Surely Kevin would eventually order him to clean the kitchen, and maybe he could take it upon himself to improve his living conditions. The house just needed more of a homey feeling and someone to clean it. Besides, he mused, he had learned from his parents that there were all kinds of masters and owners in the world. He had always dreamt of someone who would cherish him, maybe even fall in love with him, but some things just weren't meant to be, and that didn't mean that he still couldn't be happy with the way his life turned out. So he would please Kevin. He would be obedient and perfect for him. And maybe, though he could never imagine himself in a relationship with Kevin, just maybe Kevin would appreciate him or even care for him. He could be good enough. He could earn Kevin's love and respect.

Kurt fixed his fur in the mirror quickly before heading over to breakfast. He brought his arms out in front of him on the floor (being on his hands and knees was yet another thing he need to grow used to) and arched his back, stretching contentedly.

But _oh_. Stretching reminded Kurt of how cold and exposed he was as he bent over and the tiled kitchen floor pressed against his warm stomach. His parents had seen him naked, but only to take care of him. He didn't mind it because they loved him. But he couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life naked with Kevin staring at him in this exposed state, eying him as judgmentally as he had last night.

He shook his head. He couldn't think about it now. And so he held his breath as he hesitantly opened the kitchen door, pulled out a few eggs, and began to fry them.

Before Kurt knew it, he heard the creak of a bed and the thud of footsteps down the stairs, and he couldn't help but cringe as he knelt on the floor next to the lone chair at the kitchen table. A plate of eggs and a glass of milk sat on the table for Kevin.

Kevin was holding box filled with clothespins, and Kurt visibly shuddered as he saw Kevin set it down by the stairs. He looked surprised to see that Kurt had prepared breakfast as instructed. Not even surprised… disappointed, maybe? It was as though he had expected, even anticipated, Kurt's failure to follow his instructions. Did he _want_ to punish him?

"I didn't want any fucking eggs this morning, cat," he grumbled despite his growling stomach, sinking into the chair and grasping Kurt's collar in his fist.

Kurt shuddered at the cold and the pressure of the collar pushing against his delicate neck.

"I'm sorry, Master," he said simply, his eyes wide as he stared at the ground.

"Who are you?"

"Kurt?"

Kevin jerked roughly on Kurt's collar until he could hardly breathe.

"Wrong. You are my cat. Not my pet, my slave. That's your name, slave. And what is your duty?"

"To do as you order, Master?"

"And did you?"

"I mean…" Kurt mumbled, pawing the floor anxiously. "I prepared your breakfast, so I thought so."

Kevin sharply grabbed the fur atop Kurt's head, pulling his head back until Kurt was forced to look into his sharp, cold, green eyes. The stench of his breath was unbearable.

"You're my slave. You should be in tune with my needs by now. You should have seen the bread on the fucking table and known that I wanted toast, not these eggs that you made."

"I'm… I'm sorry, Master."

"Yeah? Well, sorry's not good enough. Sorry's never good enough. You should know that by now."

Kevin strode over to the stairs and picked up the clothespins.

So Kevin had planned this. He had been determined for Kurt to fail, no matter what he did. He _wanted_ for Kurt to fail, Kurt realized as his stomach sank and his eyes began to water. He couldn't be good enough to please Kevin, not when Kevin didn't want him to be good enough to begin with.

"Come here."

Kurt hesitantly came over, remaining on his hands and knees.

"Roll over. Onto your back. Let me see your stomach."

Kurt froze. His stomach was one of his most sensitive areas, being a cat hybrid. Rolling over in front of someone and exposing such a vulnerable part of himself was something he had only done in front of his parents, as a way of asking them to pet his stomach. It felt amazing when they did, but he didn't trust anyone else, not even Melinda, enough to touch him there.

At Kevin's stern look, Kurt obeyed, laying on his back with his head on the floor and his knees bent and spread slightly, arms at his sides.

Kevin ran his hands possessively along Kurt's stomach, and he squirmed inwardly, trying his best not to move. His breath came in shuddering gasps at the stranger's touch, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly in fear.

"I like seeing you like this, slave. All exposed for me."

Kurt mewled and Kevin chuckled.

"Stay still," he ordered.

Kurt felt a sharp pinch on his stomach and gasped, his eyes jolting open to see that Kevin had clamped a clothespin onto his pale, sensitive skin. His eyes squeezed tight again as Kevin attached the remaining clamps.

"Back on your hands and knees."

Kurt obeyed, shuddering. He had read of other hybrids being punished in this way before, but never in relationships that had seemed loving or romantic. No, it seemed to be a way of claiming their animal, reminding them that their bodies belonged fully to their masters. Kurt let out a sob. He didn't want to be Kevin's. His parents had told him that he was special, that he deserved someone who would always adore him. This didn't feel special.

"Keep those on for a while. Maybe that will remind you of your place in this household. We were going to stay in today, but I got a call from someone important that I need to meet. You're going to come with me. Go put on the clothes I laid out for you."

Kurt crawled upstairs and put on the clothes, which were surprisingly modest. He knew that he needed to wear clothes because owners weren't allowed to bring animal hybrids into public naked, but he had assumed that the clothes would be much more revealing. Instead, Kurt wore a simple gray shirt and pants. Plain, ugly, and a bit demeaning, yes, but modest. And modest was what he wanted most of all at the moment. He still felt exposed and humiliated by Kevin's seeing him naked and crawling on the ground.

"Alright, slave, come on. We're leaving now."

Kevin jerked on Kurt's leash, and he stumbled slightly as he followed Kevin.

"Roll over again."

Kurt obeyed, and sighed in relief as Kevin released the clothespins, leaving hot red marks along Kurt's stomach.

"I can't have you in public with those in you because it's against the law, but you are still being punished, and I expect you to remain on your hands and knees when we go out today."

It was actually not uncommon to see animal hybrids crawling alongside their master on the street. Not all did, and it depended on each individual couple, but some actually preferred and enjoyed it as a part of their submissive nature. It made them feel safe and closer to their master, or so his dog-hybrid teacher had told him a couple of years ago. Some actually enjoyed the leash as well, relishing the knowledge that they were connected with their owner. Still others walked beside their masters as equals. It was truly a matter of preference and level of comfort displaying the nature of their relationship in public. But Kevin hadn't asked Kurt about his preferences. Kevin didn't care.

Kurt felt humiliated as he followed Kevin down the street. Others did this, yes, but his parent had never and would _never, ever_ have forced him to crawl down the street on a leash like this. They loved him. He had always thought that his owner would love him and respect him just as he had. He fought back tears, unwilling to let everyone know how much he was hurting. And besides, they wouldn't do anything. This was between him and Kevin, no one else.

They reached a bar in a darker, sketchier area of town. Fumes of smoke wafted through the air, and Kurt saw flies buzzing around abandoned food and garbage lying on the ground.

"Kneel, cat."

Kevin wordlessly tied Kurt's leash to a pole and left him kneeling on the ground outside the bar. Kurt heard the creaking of the door's hinges, then a slam, and then silence. He bit his lip and fought to remain silent and calm as people walked by, some throwing him glances of idle curiosity but saying nothing and figuring that perhaps he was being punished. Kurt stared at the ground, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze.

"Come here, beautiful," he heard, and he glanced up to see a man with an arm wrapped around the waist of an attractive looking bird-hybrid. She moved into his arms and he gazed at her lovingly, kissing her on the cheek and smoothing her feathers. She let out a contented chirp, relaxing into his arms.

Kurt could no longer bear to look, and instead busied himself with looking at his reflection in the window. _That was what his life was supposed to be like. Not this. No, that was what his future life was supposed to be like, when he met a master who would love and adore him. Who would call him beautiful, or sweetheart, or baby. Just as his parents did. No. He should still be with his parents, safe and warm and protected. There was no rush to find an owner for the rest of his life, now when he was already with two humans who protected and loved and cared for him. _

Kurt sighed wistfully, then jumped when he felt a tentative and gentle touch to his head.

"Are you okay?" a voice whispered, and Kurt was suddenly looking into the warm, hazel eyes of a boy about five years his senior.

Kurt couldn't speak, and merely watched as the boy ran a hand through his black curls.

"Why are you tied up like this?"

Kurt mewled slightly.

"Did your owner do this?"

"Yes."

"Why?" The boy's triangular eyebrows furrowed.

"He… I was bad this morning," Kurt mumbled, ashamed.

"Wait, so this is how he's punishing you?"

"I guess. I don't really know. He just adopted me yesterday."

The boy touched a gentle hand to Kurt's cheek, and Kurt nuzzled into it. He had so missed his parents' tender, loving touches, and the touch was a warm, light weight lifting him from his misery, even for just a moment.

"I don't think he should be doing that to you.."

"It's okay. I'm… I'll get used to it." Kurt struggled to remain strong, but it was hard when he met the boy's heartachingly gentle, golden brown eyes.

"Are you sure? I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"Not your fault. I'm fine."

"BLAINE! For the last damned time, leave that animal alone and get over here so we won't be late!"

"Coming, Dad!"

"I'm so sorry," the boy whispered. "Are you sure you'll be okay? Do you want me to get anyone to help?"

Kurt shook his head, and the boy's hand lingered softly on his cheek before his father practically pulled him away. It would be years before they would meet again.

Kurt's heart ached with loneliness at the boy's absence, but he didn't have much time to consider it before he heard a series of shouts and shots from inside the bar.

"Get on the ground! I fucking paid for those drugs, and you have no right-"

The voice went on and on, screaming until Kurt's ears hurt. He pressed his face against the window, and realized with a start that it was coming from Kevin. His face was red, raw, and furious, and Kurt's heart thrummed in his chest until it was all he could hear. He was supposed to go _home_ with this man, this man who had already whipped him and clamped his stomach, seeming almost calm as he did so.

What would he do when he was _angry_?

Kurt made a hasty decision, and began to work at the knot that tied him outside the bar. His fingers worked feverishly to untie his leash as the voice grew louder and louder, closer and closer.

Just as Kurt heard the door open, he had managed to break free from the leash and took off running around the corner no longer on his hands and knees, not knowing or caring where he was going, so long as it was _away_.

Kevin barged out of the bar, scowling as he saw that Kurt was no longer there, but he shrugged and left quickly. There were plenty of more animals where that cat had come from.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Thank you so much to everyone for reading and reviewing – it's so, so appreciated. I also just wanted to take a moment to clarify a few things about the direction of this story, particularly the abuse, that people have asked about - especially anons, since I couldn't answer through a private message. **

**IvyGurl – There won't be chapter after chapter of abuse, and not all of Kurt's owners will be gone over in as much detail as Kevin was – we may get more details through flashbacks when he's with Blaine, but there's some things that will be just glossed over so we don't get an overwhelming amount of abuse for Kurt. Also, in this verse, there won't be any undergrad required before going to vet school because they will be taught everything in vet school, so Blaine will be about 23 and Kurt about 17 when they meet again. **

_***Blaine will most likely find Kurt at the end of the next chapter.* **_

**mm – unfortunately he's not actually about to meet Blaine right now, but he will soon. And there will be sexual abuse, but it won't go very far because I can't bring myself to write that much, and there certainly won't be anything at the level of a child prostitution ring. I'm really, really sorry if that triggers you, and I do plan to warn for it. I know there's different levels and interpretations of what "bad" is, but in my opinion, it won't be too bad.**

**Also, for the purposes of this fic, Blaine's parents are divorced.**

**Anyways, I hope that helped clarify things, and please feel free to let me know if there's any questions you have, any characters you want to learn more about, anything you want clarified through the story, whatever. :) Thank you all again!**

**Warnings for this chapter: Light sexual abuse for Kurt midway through. There's also mild violence in the same part, although not much. **

At dusk, the smog of the town somehow glimmered in the mist, beautiful in its own right. Kurt coughed, eyes darting about the vacant parts of town. A strange man had approached him earlier, but Kurt was always quick on his feet and had quickly told him that his owner had run into a shop and would come back out shortly. The man had simply nodded and Kurt had sighed in relief as the man walked away. But now it was growing dark and cold, and he didn't know where the shelter was or where he was supposed to spend the night. At least in the shelter, he had somewhere to sleep, even though it was loud and he slept on the floor and the other animal hybrids taunted him. At least then, dusk promised an escape to his dreams. But now, dusk only led to uncertainty and despair. And here he was, he thought. This was his life.

Kurt whimpered and curled up on the cold brick of a porch. This wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to be what his life was like. When he was little, dusk had promised comfort and love and happiness.

_Flashback: Kurt lies curled on his stomach in a grassy field. His head is level with the jagged grassblades, their tips turning blue in the dimming light of the sun. He loves the contrast as a white moth delicately perches on the tip of a grass blade, crawling down and landing gently on the tip of his nose. He meows in greeting and giggles to himself before scrunching up his nose._

"_You've got something on your nose, sweetheart," Mom laughs. She reaches a steady hand down to Kurt's nose, pressing gently against the moth until it crawls into the tip of her finger. Kurt sighs in relief and turns onto his back, resting his head in Mom's lap and gazing up at her. She runs a soothing hand over his stomach and lifts her finger up until the moth is close to her face._

"_He's beautiful," Kurt breathes._

"_He is, Kurt," she smiles, and Kurt just gazes up at his mother. Her auburn hair cascades down her shoulders and floats gently atop the evening breeze, scarcely visible in the now waning rays of the sun. She is so gorgeous. He is so lucky._

"_Does he have a name?"_

"_That's a good question, Kurt. I don't think so. Would you like to give him one?"_

"_Oh, yes!" Kurt furrows his brow, his ears moving back and forth in the way they do when he's concentrating. "What about Rainbow?"_

"_That's a lovely name. He's white, though, beautiful. Is there a reason you want to call him Rainbow?"_

"_Because he makes me smile," Kurt says simply, and his mother bends to kiss him on the forehead._

"_Me, too," she murmurs. "Me, too."_

_The moth's wings spread, causing Kurt to jump slightly, and it comes back to rest on his mother's wrist._

_The moth reminds Kurt of something._

"_I was playing with Colin yesterday, Mommy. We saw a spider on the playground, and I really wanted to take him home, but I told Colin, and he just laughed and stepped on the spider. I don't understand why, because Colin is so nice to me and everyone we meet, but he just killed the spider. He's so little. I could never imagine doing anything like that to him…. he's alive, isn't he? He's just like you and me."_

"_You're so smart to realize that, Kurt. He _is_ just like you and me. But kitten, there's something you do need to realize about our world, though… some people don't think about that the same way you and I do. Some people think that certain living things are better than others."_

"_But… why?"_

"_I don't know why, sweetheart. I wish I did."_

"_But people don't think that about me, though, do they? You always tell me I'm special. I always win the spelling games in school, and I have the best grade in my math class."_

"_Of course you're special, Kurt. You're the most special person I know, you know that. I'm so proud of you."_

_Kurt is glad for the reassurance and just nods._

"_Some people, though… they aren't happy unless they make other people feel bad, so there's some human beings who think that humans are better than animal-hybrids."_

"_They _do?_"_

"_Yes, Kurt." She lifts her hand to allow the moth to fly away, then brings her hand to caress Kurt's cheek while the other still pets his stomach lovingly. "Because animal-hybrids are naturally submissive and always have to live with a human, humans think that they are better than hybrids, but… that's the farthest thing from the truth."_

"_But… I like it when you take care of me, Mommy. I want to grow up to find someone who takes care of me just like you do. I couldn't imagine it any other way."_

"_I know, beautiful. And that's what's supposed to happen, that's what's going to happen. You're going to find someone who thinks you're just as special as I do and loves you just as much as I do, and you'll never let anyone tell you otherwise, okay, honey?"_

"_Of course, Mommy." Kurt looks thoughtful for a moment then dismisses his worries as the sky fades to black._

"_Let's get you back inside so you can take your bath, kitten." _

_Kurt takes her hand and follows her inside._

_End flashback._

"Hey! Cat!"

Kurt jumped. A grey cat stood beside him, long and lanky and smooth, leaning with his elbow resting on a low brick wall.

"Sorry, sir," Kurt whimpered. "I'll… I'll just go now."

"Aww, there's no need to be leaving so fast! Besides, this here ain't my property anyways. Do I look like one of them rich hybrids with a nice owner?"

Kurt squinted in the dark, inching closer. The cat hybrid's fur was scruffy and matted, and his teeth were yellowed and chipped.

"No, I.. I guess not"

"You don't got a collar either, do ya?'

"I don't… I mean…" He couldn't let him know that he didn't have an owner, not unless he wanted to go back to the shelter to the other animals' abuse.

"Shh, darlin', it's alright if you don't got an owner. I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"Okay." Kurt's big eyes grew with the reminder that he, too, didn't have an owner. It had been so long…

"Shhh, why you crying? It's okay. I have an owner, ya know. He's actually a pretty nice guy. He keep about ten of us cat hybrids in his house. He might even letcha stay wit' us. Com'on, he's not home yet, you can meet the others!"

Kurt eyed the older cat's outstretched paw with distrust, but… it was someone who understood him, knew what he had been through, and it looked like his owner had taken good care of him. He didn't want to be left alone outside by himself all night.

"Okay," he murmured shyly.

"Great! Oh. The name's Tom."

"I'm Kurt," he said in a small voice, his hand small and warm in Tom's large, calloused one.

.oO0Oo.

"Awww, who's the little guy?" a lilting voice from the corner with a southern accent called out.

"Oh, he's Kurt. Picked 'em up on the street, he looked so sad 'n' lonely, I couldn't resist. This is Lydia, by the way," Tom directed at Kurt.

"Awww, do you not have an owner, honey?" Lydia purred, sauntering towards him from across the room.

_Honey_. _It had been such a long time since he had been called that_.

"Um… no." Kurt looked ashamed. He had heard of animals without owners, but… this was him, who had had the perfect family and a perfect life. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"That's okay, we love havin' new animals! And Ben, our owner, he's a sweet guy, you'll get used to him."

"In more ways than one," Tom laughed, and another cat gave him a high-five.

"Okay..." Kurt felt nervous, looking around the room at the scratched up walls and mildewed carpet. "How come none of you have collars?" he wondered.

"Ben's not like that," Tom chuckled. "He's our owner, sure, but he shows us that in different ways."

Kurt opened his mouth up in question, but Lydia interrupted.

"Don't scare the little guy already," she chirped. "Come on, we're just about to have some fun. You like to dance, right?"

Kurt did like to dance.

"Yes."

"Well, come on with me."

She turned on a CD with a flip of her paw, and Kurt felt uneasy at first, but the way Lydia lifted him and danced with him was soothing, and he lost himself in the music as they danced with the other hybrids.

"Hey, guys, I'm home!"

Kurt looked over to the doorway and saw Ben standing there with groceries on his arm. Green and blue tattoos ran up his arm and disappeared underneath the sleeve of his tight black shirt, but… he looked nice, at least by Kurt's rapidly declining standards. He ran his tongue over his salt-and-pepper mustache before pointing at Kurt with a muscled arm.

"Who's the new guy?"

"Oh, he's Kurt! Tom picked him up on the street. He's a sweet kid."

"Mmmm," Ben eyed Kurt up and down, smiling. "Need a place to stay, I assume?"

"I… well, yes."

"Perfect! We've always got room for one more, especially one as cute as you."

The other animals smiled at Kurt and engaged him in friendly conversation as they ate dinner. Kurt left out the part about his parents, now knowing how they would react if they knew how comfortable his former life had been.

As they finished eating dinner late that night, Kurt began to follow the others to sleep on mats on the floor.

"Hey, Kurt?"

Kurt felt a strong hand on his small shoulder and turned to see Ben standing behind him. In front of him, Lydia cast Kurt a sympathetic look over her shoulder before curling up by the fire.

"Hi, um…"

"It's okay, kitty, you can call me Ben."

"Okay… Ben."

Ben grinned. "I just wanted to tell you how glad we are to have you here. And as a special treat, I usually let the new animals here sleep in bed with me for the night, okay?"

Kurt froze, looking at the man's toothy smile and smelling the alcohol and garlic on his breath.

"Uhm…. That's okay, I'll be fine down here."

The man's jaw tensed and he took a deep breath to force himself to remain calm. "It's tradition, kitty. It's how I initiate all the new animals here. You don't want to break tradition, do you? Go back outside, all by yourself?"

"I… I… no, I guess not."

"Perfect."

Later that night, Kurt lay huddled as close to the other side of Ben's bed as he could. He smelled garlic and old fish on the covers, so he leaned over so that his nose was almost entirely off the bed. Even the air in the room was stale.

He heard the mattress creak and felt Ben wiggle across the bed until he lay beside Kurt. His hot breath blew into Kurt's ear, and Kurt shuddered violently as a large, hairy arm wrapped around him, kneading small circles on his hip.

"It's time for your initiation, kitty…."

Kurt couldn't respond, frozen with fear as Kevin's rough, chapped lips moved against his neck and his hand crept down between his legs.

"Please," Kurt choked.

"You want this, sweetie?"

"No, I… I can't… stop."

"Your little friends downstairs all went through it, just like you did, you know… Just once a week, maybe twice… and you get to live here. It could be much worse, you know that…"

Kurt felt the man's arm wrap around him as his other hand tugged at his waistband and then gripped his small, soft penis.

"You're so small and fresh and innocent," Ben grinned, nipping at Kurt's earlobe. "Oh yes, Tom did quite the good job in bringing you here with me. It was his night, you know… I guess he got you here in his place. But no worries. No one can escape this for long."

His hand trailed around Kurt to his behind and began to push between his cheeks.

Kurt mewled and struggled against Ben, his fingernails turning to claws with adrenaline.

Ben growled in Kurt's ear and rolled his body atop his, but Kurt flailed his arms until his claws cut deep into Ben's face.

"FUCK, MY EYE," Ben roared, leaping out of bed to run after Kurt, but tripping and falling on his face.

Kurt didn't look behind him, running and pushing past the front door and running more until he was on the street and windows and streetlights were passing by him in a blur.

He came to an abrupt stop as he ran face-first into a tall, uniformed man, who grasped Kurt's arm and pulled him away. His golden "Police" badge gleamed under the street light.

"Where are you headed off to? You know that animal curfew is at midnight unless you're with your owner."

"I, well… I don't have an owner."

"You ran away?" The police man's eyes narrowed.

"No, I… well, my owner left me out here, I guess he doesn't want me anymore," Kurt lied.

The man examined Kurt's face.

"Alright, kid. Come on, we'll take you to the shelter, okay?"

Kurt closed his eyes to hold back a sob, shuffling his feet as he followed the man.

.oO0Oo.

-Three Years Later-

"So help me, I am your _father_, and you will _not_ be going to your senior prom with that… that… _THING_."

Blaine had already steeled himself for his father's wrath, having dealt with it for all eighteen years of his life, and just raised defiant eyes to meet his father's.

"He's a _person_, like you and me. And we're going together."

"BLAINE! He's not… he's not even fucking attractive, he's all yellow and ratty, why would you pick _him,_ of all the boys in that little fag school you go to?"

"Well, I didn't ask him, actually, he asked me, and he needs a friend, so…" Blaine trailed off uselessly and helplessly as his father glowered.

"Always trying to please everybody, of course. And you know damned well that he's not supposed to ask you, he's an animal! He's not allowed to ask humans things like that, to make decisions and demands like that.

"Dad, no, he's… he's a really sweet guy, and I feel so bad for him – he has no friends – and I… maybe everyone tells me that I'm supposed to be the one who asks hybrids to the prom because they're submissives or whatever, but I… I don't care. I don't mind. And I'm going to prom with him with him." Blaine stood up from the table, looking strong despite his short stature. He was growing so tired of this arguing.

"Let's get one things straight - you are NOT going with him. If you want to be a doctor, you had better get your head out of the clouds and think of what's best for yourself, and that doesn't involve lollygagging around the town doing Lord-knows-what with those fucking animals."

"I… I don't want to be a doctor. I didn't apply to med school."

"Blaine," his father said, growing impatient. "I was right there, I signed your applications as your guardian, and you're _going_ to med school."

"You signed my applications, but… they weren't for med school.

Blaine's father grabbed him by the collar.

"What do you mean, they weren't for med school?" he said quietly and threateningly, already knowing and dreading the answer.

"They… they were for vet school."

"Fuck," Blaine's father muttered darkly, letting go of Blaine and sending him stumbling across the room. He walked away, pacing a few seconds before returning to Kurt. "FUCK!"

"Dad…"

"Don't call me that now, not ever again. Now I'm going to call some of my connections, and they'll get you into med school, granted, it may not be the best one that you could have gotten into, but it'll do, and…"

"No."

"What did you say?" he responded lowly.

"No. I'm not going to med school."

"Yes you are, because you're leaving for school soon, and I'm not paying for any other school, and that's that."

"You… you don't need to," Blaine said, growing stronger. "I got a full scholarship, actually. To Royce Vet School, the best in the country. They'll even pay me to work in their clinics as a student, and then, well, then I'll basically be guaranteed whatever job I wanted." His father was breathing heavily, his face red, and Blaine took the opportunity to continue. "I love animals and hybrids. They – they're what I'm passionate about, and I want to spend the rest of my life serving them, maybe even fall in love with one someday, treat him like he's supposed to be treated-"

Blaine was silenced by the sharp crack of his father's hand against his face.

"Get the hell out of my house."

"Dad-" Blaine's voice filled with tears.

"NOW."

.oO0Oo.

That night found an older Kurt in the shelter, gazing out into the black of night at the twinkling stars. The sky was so big, so dazzling, so beautiful even in its darkness. The world had to be bigger than himself, than this shelter, than this life he was living. It had to be. And miles away, Blaine sat on the windowsill in his mother's townhome, tears rolling down his cheeks as he wondered the same.

**To clarify, the ending is from the same night that Blaine's father kicked him out – Kurt's back in the shelter, and Blaine is briefly staying with his mother before going to vet school, because his parents are divorced in this fic. **

**I hope that you… I don't want to say enjoyed, but found this interesting, at least? Like I said, the abuse is nearing its end. We moved ahead briefly at the end of this chapter, and the next chapter will make its way through the next 4-5 years of their lives until Blaine finds Kurt at the end. And then we'll have the h/c, which I'm super excited about. Let me know what you liked, didn't like, want to see, etc. I'll update again this weekend, most likely. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Just wanted to thank everyone who reads/reviews for being wonderful. Also, heads up that we cover a lot time-wise in this chapter, so I left little notes of Kurt and Blaine's ages as we go so that it shouldn't be confusing. **

**Again, warnings: no sexual abuse in this chapter, but there is more physical abuse than before. Kurt is also older now, and the abuse has had a significant psychological impact, so this chapter is a bit darker than the previous ones have been. There's slight mention of self-harm – consideration rather than the actual act – but I just wanted to warn anyone in case it may trigger you.**

**Also, please keep in mind that although Kurt and Blaine will meet soon, Kurt has been through a world of hurt and abuse, and their relationship obviously can't be all sweetness and rainbows right away – it takes time to heal, but Kurt will get through it. And also, though this will obviously be centered around Kurt and Blaine's relationship, the rest of the hybrid world won't be ignored, because I can't see either of them being content with just themselves and their relationship when they are both so acutely aware of the injustice surrounding them. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter :) **

_~Fifteen-year-old Kurt, Twenty-year-old Blaine~_

There is nothing worse than not being grounded. Even the freest of spirits, those who surrender to their deepest temptations or court the passions of the sultry air of summer nights, must eventually rest their heads on solid ground. This ground may be a person, a belief, a passion, or a place, but we as people cannot thrive, cannot survive, with nothing to love, to hold, to lean on, to cry on. Without something solid and welcoming and warm to the heart, people become lost and meaningless souls who have surrendered themselves and their passions to fate in the struggle for sheer survival. And really, isn't the loss of such a struggle an inevitability, at some point or another? We all lose at some point. The rich, the poor, the hopeful, the despairing – everyone loses. Yet the struggle is all that we have.

Kurt dipped a finger into the wash basin and twirled it round and round, watching the slight dip of water as it yielded to his touch. His finger altered the water for only a moment, the littlest ripple before he moved to another area, leaving the liquid forever unchanged as he was left alone, unable and unwilling to see his reflection in the darkness of the water.

Kurt could wash his face, clean his body, fluff his hair as he had done so long ago, back when he was young and innocent and hopeful for a future that promised only brightness and happiness, but really, what was the point? No one cared, no one would take a second look at the way his fur gleamed when he combed it in just the right direction. No one would ever feel the warm suppleness of his face when he moisturized it just properly. No one.

And really, who would notice anything? Who would notice if Kurt concealed a razor blade in his paw, brought the sharp and gleaming metal to his wrist, allowed the warm crimson of his blood to stain his matted fur?

"You're up late," noted a voice behind Kurt, causing him to jump. He cringed just the slightest bit, lacking the energy to summon the adrenaline that usually rose when he felt threatened. It had never helped him, anyway. Not at the shelter, not when there was no place to run.

"Alan." Kurt breathed the cat hybrid's name with sheer relief as he found himself face to face with his only friend in the shelter. They had each been sent away multiple times to various owners, but Kurt was grateful that fate had allowed their paths to cross at least occasionally.

"I missed you," Alan said simply. His brown ears, darker and richer in color that Kurt's, gently moved back and forth pensively and calmly. Emerald eyes glimmered with moonlight from the sole window in the darkness of the shelter's back room.

Kurt had never been so grateful to see those eyes. "I missed you, too."

There was nothing else to be said as the two wordlessly moved into each other's arms, neither knowing whether it was from care for the other or the simple, primal need for contact with one's fellow beings, for the feel of warmth and solidness underneath one's hands. They craved the connection.

Kurt and Alan never spoke of their previous owners, neither wanting to be reminded of the world that faced them beyond the walls of the shelter. This was always their time to simply forget. But this time was different.

"How have you been?" Kurt murmured as they sank to the ground to sit against the cold, stone wall.

"It was… it was rough, Kurt. Really rough," Alan admitted in a choked voice, unable to look Kurt in the eyes. Kurt didn't need to meet his eyes to understand, already so intimately familiar with the hurt, the pain, and perhaps worst of all the numbness, the surrender to the inevitability of it all.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said.

Alan knew.

Kurt knew Alan knew.

But both knew that "sorry" had become meaningless as they sat in silence. Kurt supposed that it could be labeled a comfortable, familiar silence, yet that seemed too hopeful. No. Their silence was stale. Stale, fatigued, and weary.

"Sometimes I wonder," Kurt whispered, gazing blankly into the darkness of the room, "I wonder about this. About our lives. About what this even is. About what life even is."

"This is all I've ever known, all I ever will know. For me, this is… well, this. This is my world, Kurt. But you, I mean, you had a mom once, a family once." Alan said, pensive. And then quieter, almost embarrassed, "What was it like?"

"Safe," Kurt reminisced, weary. "Safe and whole. Like I was going somewhere. Like my life meant something to someone."

"And now?" Alan already knew the answer, but somehow the fact that someone else was enduring the same life he was made him feel better, like there was something he could connect to in the midst of the dark chaos of his life.

"Hollow. Not even empty, just hollow, like I can't even feel emptiness. And… I think the worst is just… my life's stagnant, Alan. It's heading nowhere. It's heading nowhere _slowly_. And the way my last owner was…. I just think something's wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Alan shook his head and leaned his cheek against Kurt's, craving the warmth and contact.

"No, Alan, I'm – I'm serious. There's animals I see on the streets - they're comfortable, happy with themselves. Their owners - " tears stung Kurt's eyes - "their owners love them. They make their owners happy. I don't understand why I can't make anyone happy," Kurt choked, "Not even myself."

All too familiar with the sentiment, Alan just nodded, not bother to blink away the tears that gathered in fresh wells in his own eyes.

"I just..." Kurt was sobbing openly now. "Something is wrong with me, something must be wrong with me. I don't understand why no one can love me. Why does no one want me?"

The question was despairing. It did not demand an answer, and Alan had nothing to offer in response. They clung to each other from sheer desperation, because each was all that the other had.

"It has to get better, Kurt. It has to. It can't get any worse..." Alan whispered against the fur of the boy's head.

"And what if it doesn't? Then my life... it's stagnant, everything's stagnant," he echoed the sentiment from before. "There's nothing, Alan. Nothing."

"I know, Kurt... I know." Alan sighed, rubbing his friend's arm until his sobs died down and they melted into each other.

"Thank you," Kurt murmured after a few moments into the silence that hung vacantly between them. "You're... you're the only constant thing in my life."

"Kurt, I..." Alan couldn't find the words to express his emotions and tilted his head to press a kiss to Kurt's mouth.

Kurt turned away. Alan's heart broke, but he understood. He knew that it wasn't right, not at that time, not in their relationship. Kissing, a simple touch of the lips, loving someone... it was a basic instinct, and well... Kurt had been there.

"I'm sorry, Alan. It's just..."

"No, Kurt, it's... I know. I understand. I'm sorry."

"I know."

Neither felt the need to say anything else as they faded into obscurity and the blackness of the night.

_Seventeen-year-old Kurt, Twenty-Two-year-old Blaine_

"There you go, honey, all fixed up," Blaine smiled down at the young collie-hybrid as he handed a list of care instructions to her owner, an attractive-looking woman in her early thirties. "Would you like a balloon on your way out?"

"Oh, yes, Dr. Blaine," the girl cried, wrapping her arms around his neck as he handed her an orange, smiley faced balloon. "Thank you!"

"Of course, dear." Blaine gazed wistfully after the girl as she left. Seeing people like those two never failed to bring a grin to his face and a bounce to his step, perhaps because of the warmth between them or even the sheer rarity of kind and meaningful interactions in the world in which he had immersed himself.

The clinic he managed was severely under-funded, and even the considerable amount of money Blaine had managed to make with his musical and medical talents could only go so far towards providing the facility with proper medical supplies and sanitation. Blaine had made a name for himself amongst his colleagues as the motivator, the one who always had a smile on his face and a kind word for those who were depressed. He fought to keep a cheerful, chipper demeanor in the midst of the chaos that surrounded him, because in the end, his attitude was all that he had. But _oh,_ it was hard.

He had immersed himself in the veterinary world so blindly and idealistically, seeking to make grand, sweeping changes in the lives of hybrids, to give them identities and self-worth and owners who would love and adore them. Yet the world was so big and he was but one person, and for every kind word that poured from his mouth with sincerity, thousands of cruel, demeaning ones were being spoken by "masters" throughout the world. At the end of the day, Blaine found himself sitting hollowly by his fireplace, confused and lost and just… empty inside. He needed to care for others, the instinct was embedded in the core of his being, it was everything that he lived for. Yet the more he cared for hybrids and was filled with, the more he felt an aching loneliness coming home to no one and feeling as though all his hard work had been for naught.

"See you tomorrow, honey," Mandy, a fellow vet, called as Blaine shrugged on his coat to brave the chill of the outdoors.

Blaine smiled at the simple way Mandy called everyone 'honey.' It wasn't demeaning as the word could so easily be – it just made everyone she met feel infinitely closer to her.

"I probably won't be in tomorrow, being Christmas tomorrow and all, but… I hope you have a wonderful Christmas Eve tonight."

"You too, Blaine. Got any plans for tonight? Some of us are heading over to the bar on Parker Street, if you'd like to join us."

"Thanks for the invite, Mandy, but I have plans with a few old friends from vet school tonight. Rain check?"

"Absolutely."

Blaine hummed a goodbye as swung open the cold metal door and made his way out onto the chill of the streets.

Blaine had always been a bit of a night owl – it wasn't so much the fun, the parties, the randomness of the events that were sure to take place at night. It was moreso the feel of escape and freedom, the mystique of it all that was only enhanced on a night like Christmas Eve when sparkling lights glimmered across the town and carolers' voices painted glorious colors across the black of night. For once, all was at peace and goodwill shaped people's actions. The notion that it was all a façade, all temporary, cross Blaine's mind, but he was quick to push it aside to lose himself in the happiness Christmas had always brought to him when he was a child.

So it was with a wash of nostalgia and a sprig of happiness that Blaine strolled across town, shooting smiles at strangers, some who even deigned to return the sentiment. The chill of the night was of no consequence after all, not when the ground was draped in soft, fluffy snow.

Humming to himself, Blaine turned into a more vacant part of town and decided to risk the shortcut of an alley – there didn't appear to be anyone down there, and there were people nearby.

The alley was darker than he had imagined, and Blaine picked up his feet more quickly, eager to reach the light on the other side. Part of him laughed lightly at how metaphorical the whole thing was. As he finally reached the end, he tripped over something or someone and spun around as he bent to apologize.

His heart swooped achingly throughout his body at the all-too-familiar sight that greeted him, and he ignored the stares as he knelt on the ground, as time seemed to stop.

A dead cat hybrid. Blaine's eyes were wide as he took in the mass of chestnut, gray, and crimson, all melding into one another. His heart cried out as he saw how delicate and starved he was – had been – when he saw the bruised frailness of his ribs peeking out beneath tattered grey clothes. The worst of it all was not the blood-matted fur hanging from his tail and ears, the open wounds and bruises marring the paleness of his body, the once supple skin now stiff and cold. Nor was it the hollow beauty in the face Blaine just _knew_ was once lively, the gentle curving peak of his nose, the long, curling eyelashes, the gorgeous, sprite-like points at the tips of his ears, the high forehead with once beautiful chestnut fur draped over it. No. The worst part was the black collar around his neck, pinching so tightly that the fragile skin beneath it was bruised and chafed, a delicate sea of purple and red against the white of his face.

Blaine reached a tentative, trembling hand down to touch the pale skin, and as the blood seeped over the fingers, the fresh warmth of it surprised him. Holding his breath and scarcely daring to allow hope to wash over his body, he trailed his fingers to a vein in the cat's neck. He didn't even know what to do, what to _think_ as he felt a faint pulse thrumming beneath his touch. The body trembled slightly.

Ever so delicately, Blaine took off his jacket and placed it carefully over the boy, slid his arms beneath him, and pressed his body close to his own for warmth before standing to carry him off into the blackness of the night, to his home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you again, readers and especially reviewers :) You're all wonderful, and thank you for bearing with me through all the set up to get to this point. I promise it will eventually be important further in the story, and Alan and others will be seen again. But for now, lots of Klaine. The full story of the previous owner who got Kurt to this point won't be revealed in this chapter, but it will be hinted at. PS: Title of this story is from Fix You. Forgot to mention that.**

If Kurt had become accustomed to anything in it was life, it was darkness. Not even blackness – blackness promised sleep, the solitude of night, and escape. No, it was darkness that he had come to know hauntingly well. Even when he allowed his eyes to slip closed for a precious few seconds, the light burned through his eyelids, blurring his vision with an eerie red glow. And the worst was at night, when he buried his face in his arms to hide from the moonlight that penetrated the cold, dark glass of the basement window, when Sir Morfan brought the whip across his back, taking advantage of his vulnerability as he fought to escape in his dreams, wrenching him from the night with a loud cry.

This darkness was no different – his breath came in short, pained gasps, his stomach was so shrunken he could hardly remember the feeling of hunger, his body ached, and where it didn't ache, it stung with pain. Quick, short, hot pain. He felt a hand press against the marred skin of his neck and his eyes sprung open, waiting, just waiting, for the strikes to come from Sir Morfan, ones he had come to feel he had earned, deserved.

He was greeted with a bobbing head of curly black hair, and _oh_, the head was turning up to meet him, and the hand was on his neck, and the collar was gone, and Kurt couldn't know, didn't want to know, what was going to go around his neck next.

So it was with a small anguished whimper that Kurt instinctively allowed his fingernails to shift to claws as he struck out his hand, gasping at the trail of blood and open flesh his nails left across the man's arm.

The man let out a sharp, quick gasp of pain.

Kurt froze. He had never struck a human – well, not since Ben, but that hardly counted – and now he was going to be beaten worse than he ever had, not that he wasn't a bad cat, not that he didn't deserve it, but – oh, when Sir Morfan found out what he had done… Kurt rolled into a protective ball, tail between his legs. He didn't know how he even had tears left, but he let them pour down his face as his body shook violently with fear.

"Shhhh. I know you're scared, honey. It's okay, it's okay, you're okay…" the voice soothed.

Kurt's sobs grew louder. He had heard words like that before, words that sought to trick him, soothe him into calmness before they struck. He dug his face into the couch that lay behind him, not even wanting to know how he had got there. Sir Morfan must have found him in the alley, brought him back home…

"You were afraid. You lashed out, it's a perfectly normal reaction. I would have done the same, you know."

It had been such a long time since someone had called him "you," referred to him as a person, acknowledged that he had feelings. This man couldn't be his owner. Yet Kurt still froze, finding strange comfort in the way he felt hidden in the darkness of the couch, even though he knew that his back was visible and vulnerable to this man. But the man hadn't touched him again, had he? He could have if he had wanted to…

"Can you turn around for me, honey?"

Kurt couldn't. He let out another whimper, the shock and adrenaline wearing away and the pain returning. His fingernails dulled, no longer claws, leaving him fully weak and vulnerable to the man behind him.

"I know that you're scared of me. That's okay. I understand. I won't touch you unless you want me to. But I need you to just turn around for me, please?"

Kurt didn't move.

"I'm going to walk across the room, okay? I'll be far away from you, and maybe then you'll feel safe turning around. I'll tell you what – I'll even turn around so that my back's to you, so there's no way I would be able to hurt you, and you just let me know when you want me to turn around again. Sound good?"

The ball of fur and bruised, wounded skin didn't respond, so Blaine walked loudly across the room, purposely stepping loudly so that he could be heard.

Kurt's ears twitched alertly as they strained to follow the softening sound of footsteps. The man's scent had faded, and Kurt felt his sobs easing.

"Turn around whenever you're comfortable, sweetheart. I'll just be here, across the room, facing away from you. I'm a veterinarian. I just want to take care of you, maybe help you feel better if you'll let me. We can take care of those cuts and get something warm in your belly, maybe a nice bath and some sleep."

Years ago, before he had been tricked and hurt and jaded by the world, Kurt would have felt comfortable and at ease. Now, he just wondered what trick this man was playing, why he was promising Kurt things that he surely didn't deserve. Those things were only given to good animals, animals who were loved. As Sir Morfan had constantly told Kurt, when Kurt was eating, when Kurt was sleeping, when Kurt was being beaten… he was a bad cat, a misbehaved cat, a cat who constantly needed punishment and correction, no matter how hard he had tried.

Ten minutes passed.

"You're being so, so, good and so brave, not leaving and running away from me, you know." The voice came again from across the room. It was calm, never wavering in pitch. Just steady - a steadiness that Kurt could allow himself to latch onto despite his trembling heart. "I'm so proud of you for being so good."

Kurt had grown so used to abuse that he couldn't help the way he fluttered at the praise. Any kind words were a novelty he had never grown used to. And he realized that the man was going to continue to stand there, would not go away. Whatever inevitability faced him in the future, he was only prolonging his misery the longer he spent with his back to the man.

So with a rustle, Kurt rolled his body over. He held back a gasp.

He was in a small living room. It was filled with bookcases and illuminated the soft glow of a fireplace. In the corner stood a small Christmas tree with golden lights and shiny silver balls. The couch he lied on was a soft, plushy maroon.

And as he allowed his eyes to travel over the room, he saw the man and examined him. He was surprised by how short he was – Sir Morfan had been tall, thick, and strong, leaving Kurt completely vulnerable and defenseless. This man was strong, to be sure – his black t-shirt was tight over his biceps, and his shoulders were fairly broad. But there was a kindness in the way he carried himself, in the way his body was built. He was wearing dark red sweatpants, and the sheer fact that this man also loved to wear soft, warm pants, enjoyed feeling comfortable, soothed Kurt's heart. The three gashes Kurt's claws had left were open and bleeding on the back of his arm, looking strangely beautiful against the tan of his skin as he stood perfectly still and allowed Kurt to survey his body.

Kurt wasn't sure how to address the man to tell him he had turned around, so he reverted to the one he had been punished for the least, the one most of his owners had liked to call him.

"Your… your slave's turned around now." His voice shook as the man turned around.

Kurt was shocked by the darkness, then immediate tenderness in the man's eyes as he turned to face him, taking no move to come closer to Kurt.

His eyes were big – big yet gentle, and there was a little bit of playfulness lurking beneath them. And he was… beautiful. Humblingly beautiful in a way that made Kurt ashamed to even be in his presence, so weak and disheveled and matted.

"You're so good, doing so well," the man said through berry lips. His voice was rich and calming. "But do you have a name?"

"Um, yes. Kurt."

"Beautiful," Kurt heard the man murmur. How could this gorgeous man even begin to consider anything about him to be beautiful? "Is it okay if I call you by that name?"

"Yes. Sorry, yes… yes, Sir."

"Shhh, Kurt. You're not my slave. I don't care what anyone has told you – you're no one's slave. You're worth so much more than that, you're a person and nothing less. And my name's Blaine. I will never, ever, make you call me Sir. You're just as special, just as important, and worth just as much as I am."

"Okay." Kurt said quietly. He couldn't bring himself to refer to a person by his actual name.

"You're still bleeding, honey."

"So are you," Kurt observed as he surveyed the man's arm with wide, still afraid eyes.

"Nothing I haven't had before," Blaine chuckled.

Kurt still looked at him, his eyes painfully aware and alert.

"I'm not going to punish you, you know." Blaine allowed the words to sink in as Kurt just stared at him.

"You're such a good boy. You were uncomfortable. You didn't trust me, and you had no reason to. It wasn't your fault. I won't punish you, and I'll never hit you. I promise," he said, raising up his right hand so solemnly that Kurt giggled a bit inside.

"Is it okay if I walk over to you, now? You must be in a lot of pain."

Kurt just nodded, an elegant bob of his pointed chin.

"Thank you. Thank you for letting me." Blaine said simply, and the casual way in which he said such beautiful words sent warmth tingling down Kurt's body all the way down to his toes.

Blaine lowered himself down onto the chair he had placed beside the touch, and Kurt instinctively shrank back a little at his proximity, despite the fact that he was so drawn into the warm golden brown tones of his eyes.

Kurt whimpered and buried his face into the fluff of the pillow Blaine had placed beneath his head.

"I need to finish taking care of your wounds before they get infected," Blaine said in almost a whisper. His voice floated gently between their two bodies, curling itself snugly in Kurt's ears.

"Okay," Kurt made out.

"Can I touch you, honey? Just to take care of you, nothing more."

Kurt trembled but nodded, his eyes wide and alert on Blaine's hands as he watched them work quietly and diligently, touching him only where necessary. His eyes were soft and tender, but his brows furrowed in concentration and care.

Blaine spoke to him in a soothing, steady voice, praising him for allowing him to do this, for being good for him. Kurt clung to the gentleness of his words through the pain, not even paying enough attention to comprehend the actual words and instead immersing himself in the simple pleasure of a tender voice directed towards him. He eventually allowed his eyes to flutter closed, trusting the hands not to hurt him.

When Blaine's hands reached his neck, Kurt panicked, and his hands grasped at his flesh, horrified to feel only the bruised skin.

"My collar. Where is it?"

Blaine observed Kurt quizzically. When Kurt's hands began to claw at his neck and scrape at the flesh, Blaine took them in his own and held them gently yet firmly, not wanting Kurt to injure himself even further.

"I took it off, honey. It was choking you. I'm surprised you're still okay, given how long it looks like you've been wearing it. I had to cut it, though, since there was a lock on it, in the back."

And that was why, despite his clawing and scratching, Kurt had never been able to get the collar off, slip away from the metal chain that had tethered him to his previous owner, his previous life.

"But my owner – he's going to…"

"No, Kurt." Blaine cut him off, unwilling and unable to bear listening to the panic and pain in Kurt's voice. "You're not going back to him."

"I have to. He'll… he'll come find me, he told me he would if I ran. It was so _stupid_ of me, he knows where I am now, he must, and he'll come and capt-"

Blaine's eyes were wide and teary. "Shhhh, kitten… he doesn't know where you are. You're with me now. I'll never let him get to you."

Kurt didn't believe him but was too weary to argue and slumped back against the pillows, exhausted.

"You haven't had much to eat, have you?" Blaine observed, his eyes on the way Kurt's ribs protruded through his tattered clothes.

Kurt moved his head in the negative, the slightest shake before collapsing back against the couch.

"I know, honey, I know…" Blaine murmured. "Do you think you can handle anything solid right now? Some fish, anything?"

"…no." Kurt's voice was small and shaky.

Blaine touched a hand to Kurt's forehead. Blaine's skin was cool and refreshing against his own skin, hot and sweaty. He could feel the pulse in Blaine's wrist, the soft, plushy pads of his fingertips and the ligaments, the bone… it felt solid, yet there was such an aching gentleness in the way Blaine touched him. He hadn't been touched so tenderly by anyone in so long, and he couldn't help the way his heart yearned to trust someone again. It was just his nature to trust.

Before he knew it, Blaine was pressing something rubber against Kurt's mouth. Kurt opened his eyes to see at bottle, and looked toward Blaine questioningly.

"I know it's silly, honey, and it's not that I see you as a baby or as any less of a person. We just need to start slowly to get something in your stomach that you can keep down. This is very mild and has the nutrients you need."

The fact that Blaine was speaking to him like an intelligent person, explaining his reasoning and allowing Kurt to decide for himself… it made him feel like he was… someone. Like he had an identity. Kurt said nothing, but looked at Blaine with wide and trusting eyes as parted his lips to allow the nipple to enter his mouth. He sucked lightly. There was something primal and intimate about allowing Blaine to feed him, and he lost himself in the sensation of the warm stream of milk trickling down his dry throat. He felt embarrassed, but Blaine's eyes were so warm and concerned and non-judgmental that he allowed himself to relax.

"Good, sweetheart. You're doing so wonderfully, doing this for me. It's going to make you feel better, kitten, I promise."

Blaine used his finger to wipe away a drop of milk from Kurt's lower lip when he removed the bottle.

"We're going to give you a bath now, and then you can get some rest. Does that sound good?"

Kurt nodded weakly. When he tried to stand, his head swam with darkness and he fell back onto the couch.

"Can I carry you?" Blaine's voice was soft.

Kurt nodded weakly, allowing Blaine to scoop him into his arms and carry him against his chest.

Blaine's scent was nice, soothing even. And mild. It was natural and primal – it hadn't come from a bottle. It was embedded in his hair, in his clothes, and just so characteristic of him.

Yet despite his instincts, his need for human contact, for affection, Kurt felt his eyes tear. The intensity of the emotions was just too much, and it had been too long since he had been touched that being held so closely to another body was just too overwhelming. It was too much for him to handle, too much trust for him to give anyone.

Blaine seemed to understand as he placed Kurt down in the bathtub. He perched himself on the side and wordlessly ran a hand up and down Kurt's arm, careful to avoid the wounds.

"I know, baby, I know," he whispered.

Kurt allowed Blaine to remove his clothes. They were so tattered that Blaine had practically seen all of him anyway, and he just wanted to feel clean again. He wanted to feel the warm, purging water run over the top of his head, yearned for the way he would feel his old owner's cells leave the surface of his skin.

Kurt whimpered and cried out as the lukewarm water stung his open wounds, desperately thrusting his head back and looking for something solid to rest on, feeling so weak.

Blaine steadied Kurt's head with his hand and draped his leg over the wall of the tub, pulling up his pant leg to allow Kurt to rest his weary head over his thigh. Kurt's eyelids opened halfway, gratefulness shining beneath them as Blaine ran a hand over his cheek.

"You're being so good, I'm so lucky to have you here with me, to be able to take care of you the way you deserve…"

Blaine's words continued, distracting Kurt from his pain and exposed state as he brought the washcloth over his body, dirt and blood flushing away and leaving beautiful, pure skin in their wake.

When it was over, Blaine brought a towel-wrapped Kurt over to his bedroom, sitting him on a plushy chair and rummaging through his dresser.

He went over to his desk and cut something with a pair of scissors before bringing the clothes over to Kurt. There was a pair of plaid flannel pants and a t-shirt with a picture of a gingerbread man on it. Kurt smiled lightly through his exhausted, hazy eyes.

"The pants are kind of short, but the stores are all pretty much closed tonight, so this is the best I can do," he said apologetically. "I cut a hole for your beautiful tail, though."

Kurt's insides flailed a bit with laughter when he saw a crooked, heart-shaped hole just below the elastic waistband of the pants.

"They're perfect," he murmured as Blaine helped him into them.

Blaine then headed over to a drawer in the corner of the room, returning with a hairbrush in hand. Kurt's half-lidded eyes flew open when he saw the object growing nearer to him, and he let out a strangled cry. "I'm sorry," he mustered.

Blaine stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room. "Sweetheart, what on earth is there for you to be sorry for?"

"Your arm," Kurt choked. "Please, I can't – you can punish me later, but… everything hurts to much, and the hairbrush…"

"You thought… you thought I was going to hit you?"

Kurt didn't respond, his eyes teary and his face flushing with embarrassment.

"Kurt, _beautiful_… I meant it when I told you that I'll never hit you, never punish you. Especially for something you did when you were afraid. I had no right to be touching you, and you had every right in the world to be protecting yourself."

He paused and moved closer to Kurt to sit on the arm of the chair he was nestled in, which Kurt allowed.

"As for the brush, I just wanted to brush your fur. You'll feel better when you feel as beautiful as I know you are."

It was only then that Kurt allowed himself to reflect on the pet names. _Beautiful, honey, sweetheart._ It had been so, so achingly long since anyone had called him that. He still didn't believe that this was real, and didn't want to allow himself to hope, to enjoy any of it, afraid that it would only be taken away and he would be left with what he had…nothing. He wasn't used to the affection, and it overwhelmed him. But maybe… maybe he could allow it to wash over him, immerse himself in the pleasure for just a little while, for he had nothing left to lose, already having lost his dignity, his life, his everything.

The rubber bristles were soothing against Kurt's scalp, and he felt Blaine's hands massage his shoulders, kneading the thin and tired muscle as his fur grew fluffy and Blaine worked out the mats, careful not to pull on the delicate, sensitive flesh of his ear and tail. He yawned, tentatively leaning his fragile body into Blaine's strong, comforting hands.

"You must be exhausted. Let's get you into bed, alright?"

"Bed?"

"Yes."

Kurt hadn't been in a real bed in so long, but said nothing as Blaine brought him over to his bed and tucked him in beneath the covers, soft yet heavy enough to make him feel safe.

"I'll just be downstairs on the couch."

"I can't… I don't... I'll sleep on the couch." It was surely better than the cold stone of Sir Morfan's basement floor. Yet Kurt wasn't willing to tell Blaine how long it had been since he'd slept in a real bed, afraid of showing him just how miserable and vulnerable and unhuman he really was. It was humiliating.

"No, baby. You sleep here." Blaine's tone left no room for argument.

Kurt panicked as Blaine flipped the lights off.

"I – B – Blaine?"

"Hmm?" the hum was soft, soothing to Kurt's ears, and filled him with temporary confidence.

"Will you stay here? With me?" Kurt instinctively braced himself for the inevitable rejection, but none came.

"Of course." Kurt heard Blaine voice choke a bit as he lied beside him on the bed. Kurt was beneath the covers; Blaine was on top of them on the side opposite Kurt.

The room was dark, and Kurt sought out Blaine's hand, resting his on top of it for reassurance.

Something about touch – not the brush of shoulders in the grocery store but deliberate, heartfelt contact with fellow living beings - makes people feel infinitely closer to one another and connected to the web that interweaves us all.

"It's been so long since I've slept in a real bed," Kurt whispered, open and vulnerable. "Thank you."

He heard tears in Blaine's voice once again as the man leaned his face closer to Kurt's and whispered, "You never need to thank me for giving you the things you deserve."

There was no need for further words. Kurt allowed his eyes to slip closed, Blaine's hand warm and solid in his own, his scent surrounding him as he buried his face in the pillows. He was vulnerable, weak, and in pain, but Blaine… Blaine wasn't going to hurt him.


	6. Chapter 6

**You guys are all so amazing! :) Also, I just wanted to say thank you to all the anon reviewers, since I can't respond to you through messaging. And to pasty: thank you so much for pointing that out about the characterization of Kurt – it's a very valid, logical point, and I will absolutely include it at some point. It's definitely helped me come to a greater understanding of Kurt and his emotions at this point.**

**So this chapter picks up with Tom and Lydia in Ben's house from Chapter 3. Quick refresher, since when I'm reading fanfiction, I pay much more attention to Klaine than OC's (though I promise the OC's will eventually play a part in Kurt and Blaine's lives. Not all of them, but some. Including Alan.) Tom is the cat hybrid who basically lured Kurt into Ben (a human's house) to get out of a turn in bed with him. Lydia was a sweet cat who didn't really approve, but did nothing to stop it either. No more sexual abuse in this chapter. We just move on with Tom and Lydia's lives – it will tie in with Kurt and Blaine eventually, promise, so I'd be obliged if you'd bear with me! And if you get the chance, let me know what you think of the two of them, because we can always cut down on them as well.**

**Also more Klaine in the second half, of course. :)**

As the clock struck midnight on Christmas Day, Tom and Lydia lay curled by Ben's fireplace. Tom considered the state of their relationship. It was not a close one, he supposed. Rather, it had been a lengthy and desperate one. He had been enraptured with her when they were young and lustful and desperate for companionship. Theirs had been a relationship of, well, availability. They had even made love in front of this very fireplace in years past, back when they were teenagers, vibrant and naïve and free, for they knew that surely this life would not last forever.

Yet as the years drug on, they leaned on one another, for each was the only familiarity the other had left as other animals came and went. Each took a turn with Ben on various nights of the month, though neither acknowledged it aloud. Though on those nights, when he lay alone by the fire and Lydia was upstairs, doing things he couldn't even allow himself to consider, he found himself missing the warm weight of her body against his, the light peppermint smell her fur always carried, the way her tail curled around his at night.

"Merry Christmas," Lydia murmured as the clock struck midnight, careful not to awaken the other animals, cramped as they slept around them.

"Damn it, Lydia. We're not teenagers anymore. It's too late to sit around pitying ourselves, muttering 'merry fucking christmas' as if it's going to change anything. I'm too old to sit here commiserating and whining about this shit."

Lydia had grown accustomed to Tom's abrupt changes in mood through the years and sighed, reaching an arm out to wrap around his stomach, hoping to calm him. She had, after all, learned not to take his sharp temper personally.

"That's not going to _work_ every time, don't you understand? We're old, Lydia."

"I didn't know you considered me old, Tom," Lydia murmured, feeling helpless and overly sensitive, tears prickling her eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then help me understand, Tom, because I'm at a loss right now."

Tom sighed and rolled over, throwing an arm over his eyes, at a complete lack of anything to do, to hope for, restless and anxious with no outlet for his energies.

Lydia turned away from him and said nothing, and Tom pulled her up by the waist, bringing her to sit on the windowsill with him.

"You know I don't like it when you pull me around like that," she muttered, Tom's negative energies rubbing off on her.

"I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have… just…. I'm frustrated. There's nothing to _do_ here. I don't want to waste my life away here. I'm sick of it."

"There's nothing we can do, Tom. Not if we want to live."

"Live for what? We're hardly living anyway."

Tom took Lydia's hand in his and guided it to press against the window. She flinched with the cold but allowed it to remain there.

"_Look_ out there, Lydia. Just _look_ out there. Look at the stars, look at the _people_, at the lights and the snow and the colors. Don't you ever want to be out there _with_ them? Experience it for yourself, by yourself, without some human dragging you around by the leash?"

Lydia turned away in frustration. When they were young, she had allowed herself to become wrapped up in Tom's grandiose visions for the future, of happiness and love and rainbows. And it had led nowhere.

Frustrated, she ripped her hand from Tom's, walking a few feet away from him and sinking into a corner. "What's the point of this?" she spat, desperate to hide the tears clouding her eyes. "To make me feel bad about myself, about what we're going through? To remind me that no matter how _hard_ I try, no matter how _much _I wish and long for things, it makes no difference? Not to me, not to anyone? To make me dream of what I can never have, just to sustain this… existence that means nothing to me anymore?"

She looked so weak, so vulnerable despite her anger, that Tom felt guilt prick at his heart and approached her with tenderness.

"No, Lydia. It's… that's what I'm saying. I don't want to sit here and pretend anymore. And what's stopping us, really? What's keeping us from breaking free, from exploring the world on our own?"

"We need owners, Tom. _Human_ owners. You know that." She said flatly.

"Lydia, I… I know we're supposed to be submissive or whatever the hell those humans told us since we were young, but all I know is that I love you, and I want to be with you. But more than that.. I want to be _free_. It's in my blood, I can't help myself. I want us to be together, free to experience everything this world has to offer. We can take care of ourselves. We don't need any owner lording over us, telling us what we can and can't do." Tom was pacing fervently back and forth, tail swinging rapidly.

"Well good, then. Let's sit here and _dream_ some more, _pretend _that we can do that. Because that's going to solve all of our problems." Lydia flung her hands in the air, frustrated, before wrapping them around her bent knees and leaning her head back against the wall behind her.

When she looked back up, Tom had disappeared.

He emerged from around the corner some ten minutes later.

"Tom, what the hell are you… are those Ben's clothes?"

"The very finest," he smirked, tipping his hat and spinning in a circle.

Lydia stalked across the room, pulling the hat from his head. "Take these off before Ben _sees_ you," she hissed. "I don't know what you're even thinking anymore, but I'm sick of it."

"But Lydia, _look_," Tom murmured, placing the hat back atop his head and twirling in around. "Do you see ears? A tail? Fur?"

"…no." Lydia stared at him quizzically, before realization dawned. "You look like… like a human."

Tom smiled warmly, pulling Lydia in by the waist. "We can leave," he murmured. "This can be our chance."

"What am I supposed to wear? It's not like Ben has a girlfriend or wife, not with the way he make each of us sleep with h-"

"Shhhh, Lydia." Tom's face grew serious. "Please don't make me even think of him doing that to you, love. I just – I know I'm not the same young, happy kid I used to be, but – not to you, I just can't even think about that."

Lydia leaned into Tom, expressing unspoken emotions.

"And besides," he whispered in her ear. "To answer your question, Lydia? You don't need to hide your fur, dress like a human. I can be your owner."

Lydia's eyes widened before she glanced at the rapidly ticking clock. "Okay," she whispered, slipping her hand into his.

"Okay?" Tom questioned, surprised.

"I trust you, whether I like that fact or not. So okay."

Tom grinned, opening the door for her as they walked outside.

Neither noticed the pair of gleaming green eyes on the couch, carefully noting their every move before slinking out the front door.

.oO0Oo.

Kurt awoke to sunlight creeping through the windows, and panic rushed through him, tearing into his stomach and ripping to his heart. Sir Morfan hadn't woken him up. Sir Morfan _always_ instructed him to wake before the sun rose, not that Kurt could manage to anyways, given how late he was forced to stay up, but he surely would have come downstairs to awaken Kurt by _now_, if not to punish him for oversleeping…

His body jerked instinctively, and he whimpered, grasping his foot in pain as it collided with something blunt, curling into a ball on the corner of the bed…

Oh. The bed. And when he saw Blaine's eyes jerk wide open and realized in horror that he had kicked the man in the shin, Kurt was filled with a whole new kind of fear, whimpering and tucking himself further beneath the covers as he turned away from him.

"Merry Christmas, Kurt," were the only words that greeted Kurt's ears.

The soft words that had soothed Kurt's heart earlier now made his insides squirm in discomfort. Why was Blaine so gentle with him? What did Kurt need to _do_ to get the inevitable anger to erupt?

"It's just me," Blaine murmured tentatively, misinterpreting the silence. "Blaine. From yesterday, remember?"

Kurt burrowed further beneath the covers as though he could hide from the cloud of guilt that hung over his head at his lapse in judgment, at coming into this man's house, at using his bed, his clothing, at taking advantage of his kindness, at running away from his owner, which good hybrids were _never_ supposed to do.

"I know it's going to take a while for you to get used to this, honey. It's going to be hard to not have a master anymore… but I think you'll eventually realize how much better off you are."

Kurt rolled back towards Blaine. Blaine still remained on top of the covers on the other side of the bed, making Kurt feel at once lonely and grateful for the separation. "But you're… aren't you?" he whispered, blushing and struggling to not hide his face in the covers. How could this beautiful, perfect man be looking at _him_ with such tenderness?

"Well, I suppose that in the legal sense, I'm your _owner_," Blaine mused quietly. "But… sweetheart, in the first place, you should have never been forced or ordered to call anyone your master. That should be something you decide for yourself, of your own free will. That's a beautiful, beautiful, gift that you give to a human. It's a gift of yourself, and you are your most precious possession. That human needs to earn your trust, the right to be your master, and he would never, ever abuse you or force you to call him by any title that makes you feel uncomfortable."

"You don't want-" Kurt trailed off, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"_No_, Kurt, of course not. I didn't…" _take you in_ seemed… harsh, Blaine thought. That wasn't what this was. "I didn't invite you here last night to use you. I just want you to be healthy and happy. I want to get you back on your feet."

"And then what?" Kurt stammered, not meeting Blaine's eyes.

"Well, you'd be free to leave, I suppose. Or to stay. I'd never make you leave. Not that you'd ever need my permission to leave. You're free to leave right now, if you'd like. I hope that you wouldn't, though. I like having you here," he finished carefully.

Something about the way he'd phrased that.. 'I like having you here,' not 'I want to take care of you…' it did inexplicable things to Kurt's quiet whirlwind of emotions, and he sunk back into the sheets, embarrassed and uncomfortable yet placated.

"You still sleepy?" Blaine questioned softly. The intensity in his gaze would have burned into Kurt, were it not so gentle.

Kurt shook his head. He had told the truth, in a way. He wasn't sleepy, but that was beside the point. More importantly, he didn't want to bore Blaine as he slept, didn't want to be a burden.

"Alright. Hungry?"

This time, Kurt couldn't help himself. He nodded.

"Want to come downstairs with me, or…?"

"I can just wait here, if… if that's okay." Right now, he just felt the need to be alone, but… he couldn't tell Blaine that.

Yet from the way Blaine's alert, caring eyes widened briefly with understanding, Kurt couldn't thwart the realization that Blaine already knew this. "Of _course_ it's okay. I'll just be downstairs for a little while."

Despite the way his heart ached at the way Kurt mewled slightly and rolled over, Blaine couldn't help the bounce in his step as he walked down the stairs. He had not been looking forward to this Christmas, not at all. His family parties had that uptight, arrogant air as everyone tried to outshine the other, their boasting about their accomplishments hardly hidden beneath false politeness. He had friends, yes, but their idea of Christmas was heading over to the bars. He had always imagined Christmas as something that carried more meaning. Love and joy and warmth and everything it had meant when he was young and naïve. He wanted that back. He could have stopped in at the shelter, but as much as he enjoyed caring for the animals, their pain wore heavily on his heart, and his façade of happiness was just that – a façade. Not that caring for the animals didn't bring him joy, but nursing them back to health and then seeing them again weeks later, matted and downtrodden, the weight of the world on their jaded shoulders – it _did_ things to him. His veterinary teachers had always emphasized the importance of emotional detachment, but Blaine couldn't change the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve.

Caring for Kurt, though – it was different than caring for the other animals. Not in some cliché, romantic, way, no. He would be lying to himself if claimed to not mean it with every ounce of his being when he called Kurt beautiful, but it wasn't that. It was having him in his home, safe from the cruelty of the outside world. He could be around him constantly, for once able to give someone his undivided attention without the worry that some lying, abusive owner would whisk him away as soon as he was getting back on his feet. He loved the way Kurt's eyes lit up just slightly when he said just the right thing. He loved the way he relied on him, not because he wanted him to be weak, but because the fact that Kurt was trusting him to care for his needs warmed his heart.

He loved the opportunity to guide Kurt to see the world anew, for what the world was, or what it had the potential to be.

Blaine waited a while before warming another bottle for Kurt. He wanted to give him the opportunity to reflect and be alone.

When he made his way back into the bedroom, Blaine felt a flutter in his throat at the way Kurt's chapped lips quirked, just slightly.

"I'm sorry about the bottle again, kitten," Blaine murmured, approaching the bed carefully. "I just thought that it would be easier, for now…"

"I know," Kurt said softly. "I don't mind." And he didn't. He kept one hand on the bottle over Blaine's as Blaine held it to his mouth. He enjoyed the way Blaine's hand would gently follow his lead when he pulled the bottle away momentarily to take a breath, swallow, or wipe his mouth. The trust of it all, the way Blaine could so easily ignore his weak movements and continue to press the bottle to his mouth, choking him with milk, but didn't… it was nice.

"Thank you so much for finishing all that, honey. It's so good for you, and I can tell that it's already making you feel better." He spoke carefully, sweetly, noting the way Kurt was latching on to his every word. "Would you like to come downstairs? I'd hate to see you waste all Christmas in bed."

Kurt nodded. Blaine didn't even need to ask to carry him, for Kurt had already outstretched his arms. Blaine adored the way Kurt clung to his neck, trusting him with his body as he gently laid him on the couch, propping him up with a pillow. Kurt's eyes instinctively darted about the room, from the glittering lights winding their way down the banister to the golden angel on the endtable. He felt almost uncomfortable, surrounded by such beauty, until Blaine sat delicately beside him.

"It's so nice to have you here with me," Blaine said, the sincerity in his voice so achingly obvious that Kurt couldn't bring himself to doubt him. "I wasn't exactly looking forward to Christmas, you know… I like the mood around this time of year, I suppose, but the way some people celebrate it is another story."

Kurt nodded, touched by the way Blaine just… spoke to him, like an actual person. No one had done that since Alan. "My mom always told me that Christmas is supposed to be about celebrating love, and celebrating each other, about the light that each person gives to the world. Things must have changed, I don't know when, but… it's not about that anymore."

"I know, honey. I like to think, though, that… maybe it still can be. Because the only thing that would hurt more than knowing that something's gone, is knowing that it's never coming back."

Something resonated inside Kurt. "It's hard, though, when some things really are gone forever."

Blaine sensed Kurt's sadness but didn't pry, allowing him to grapple with his own feelings and maybe take comfort in the fact that Blaine was beside him.

"Things like my parents," Kurt whispered tearfully. The admission stung Blaine's heart. He had guessed that this had happened to Kurt, from the fact that he was without an owner at such a young age, when hybrids were still living with their parent owners as they searched for the perfect owner for the rest of their lives. But the fact that Kurt actually brought it up…

"They're not gone. Not really," Blaine said quietly. "I don't believe that for a second."

Kurt's crying paused as he looked towards Blaine questioningly. He felt as though their eyes were truly meeting for the first time. He had never noticed the flecks of amber, the full roundness of their warmth, their hope.

"I couldn't believe that. Not when I see how beautiful you are, inside and out, how good and lovely you're being. It takes such a strong, brave person to let someone else take care of them when they're sick. You must have had wonderful parents who took care of you and made you that strong."

Blaine's voice was… contemplative, Kurt thought. It didn't have that sing-song of clichés and an overly sincere voice. It was like he was thinking out loud, yet his words reached something inside of Kurt that had gone untouched for so, so long.

At a loss for words yet still desperate for comfort and affection, Kurt shyly moved closer to Blaine, nuzzling his head against the man's shoulder. Blaine picked up on the movement, the request for touch, and reached out a hand to gently stroke the silky fur atop his head. His touch was tender yet held the perfect amount of friction to cause Kurt to sigh contentedly. Blaine allowed his fingers to play across his head to scratch softly behind Kurt's ears, and the resulting purr lit Blaine's heart. He fought to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around him, not wanting to lose Kurt's trust.

"You're doing so much for me," Kurt murmured. "What can I do for you?"

Blaine was taken aback, but simply responded, "I'll never force you to do anything for me, but it would make me deliriously happy if you would continue to just be yourself and let me help you get better."

Kurt turned his head on Blaine's shoulder so that he was looking sideways into the man's eyes. "Really, though.." he murmured.

Blaine slowly landed on the realization that Kurt needed this. He needed to do something for Blaine, to get rid of his guilt and discomfort, to feel like he was doing something of value to someone and not just taking. He was very much like Blaine in that way.

"Well," Blaine said pensively, still stroking Kurt's hair, catching the way Kurt's eyes lit when he looked towards the shiny silver balls on the tree in the corner. "You know how if you go into a store around Christmas time, they have all those Christmas trees with different decorations and a different color scheme for each one?"

Kurt nodded against Blaine's shoulder. Blaine felt the gentle brush of his long eyelashes against his neck and chuckled lightly. "Well, I have a slight tendency to fall in love with pretty much all of them, but I never get around to putting them all up. Want to help me with that tree behind you? I only put the lights op so far."

When Blaine saw the first smile he had ever seen from Kurt, he swore his heart… well, glowed. Kurt arched his back as he struggled to get up, so eager to decorate the tree, to please Blaine, but Blaine held him down with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "That's okay, love. You need to rest, so you just stay right there. I mainly need some decorative advice," he smiled.

Kurt's eyes brightened when Blaine brought heaps of glimmering garlands, ornaments, bows, ribbons, sequins, and anything he could possibly imagine over, setting them down on the couch beside Kurt. Kurt giggled, gazing down at them in wonder before occupying himself with digging through the box, examining items critically. He held up a box of gold, turquoise, and ruby jeweled ornaments with clamps on the bottom to lock onto the branches. They reminded him of the clamps that, so long ago, had been on his stomach, but when he saw the tenderness in Blaine's eyes as he watched him dig through the box, he pushed the memory to the back of his mind. Now wasn't the time for that.

"Ahhh, the birds," Blaine smiled. "One of my more impulsive purchases."

"They're beautiful," Kurt murmured as he handed them to Blaine, pulling out delicate, swirled gold and silver garland and handing it to Blaine, who chuckled as he untangled it from around Kurt's arms. He dove back into the box, pausing as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored turquoise ball ornaments, overwhelmed with the memory of the way he had gazed into the mirror that first day, years ago, desperately hoping that his owner would find him beautiful and worthwhile. His fur looked eerily the same as before – Blaine had worked out the mats and fluffed it so that it shone – but… it was different. Kevin had seen him that way, but never called him beautiful. And Blaine had called him beautiful even yesterday, when he had seen Kurt at his worst, matted and bloody. Beauty. It was baffling.

"Oh my goodness, these all look _wonderful_ together," Blaine laughed, arms full of the decorations Blaine had given him. Kurt blushed at the praise.

Blaine worked quickly to decorate the tree, loving the way Kurt's head eventually came to rest over the back of the couch, ears twitching attentively as he watched the way the shimmering garland contrasted with the tree's dark green branches, the way the birds glittered, the way Blaine's eyes lit as he watched the tree come together. And he thought… maybe he could do this. Maybe he had it in him to make someone else happy, too.

When Blaine headed back over to the couch, he saw Kurt carefully cutting at ribbon. Looking down adorably and biting back a smile, Kurt reached behind his back and handed Blaine a huge bow. It was filled with golds and turquoise and ruby, glimmering arches of ribbon intertwining and folding into one another, perfectly interwoven. "It's for the top," Kurt said softly, biting his lip nervously.

Blaine beamed, settling down on the couch beside Kurt as he took the bow from his arms. "You made this?" A small nod. "It's so beautiful, Kurt. How did you learn to make these?"

"My mom," Kurt said softly. "She used to design clothes and things, so I'd always help her." Blaine looked carefully into Kurt's soft face and saw not the tears he had seen earlier, but just fond remembrance shining in his eyes.

And Kurt wondered… maybe his mother did live in him, after all.

Blaine was still beaming down at Kurt, running his fingers across the bow in wonder. "Thank you so much for making this and helping me with everything, sweetheart. I _love_ this bow so much, and I love that you would make it for me. For us."

Kurt just gave Blaine a teary smile, his body still weak and exhausted from working on the tree and the bow. Blaine's face was beautiful and heartachingly sweet, his lap warm and welcoming. Tentatively, he pushed the pillow behind him to the side and leaned slightly to rest his head in Blaine's lap. He felt a fuzzy red blanket drape over him, and he heard Blaine singing to him soothingly. He reached out a hand, searching drowsily for Blaine's until he felt Blaine's fingers intertwine with his own. Pulling their joined hands to rest against his chest, Kurt drifted off to sleep as their tree glistened in the background.


	7. Chapter 7

**Obnoxiously long AN. Skip if you'd like, it's not overly pertinent to understanding the story. **

**You guys are all so, so lovely. Just saying :] Sorry this took a little while! I got busy with Christmas, and then the night I started writing this chapter, my friend and I watched some To Catch a Predator, and then with every piece of dialogue I wrote for Blaine at that point, I was like, "Oh God, he sounds like a child molester." Anyways. I got past that; Kurt is not a child, and Blaine's intentions are most definitely not sexual, which is yet another thing that I adore about him. And it's CHRISTMAS (ish. I'm a bit late.) , so yay!**

**A couple people have asked me what Kurt looks like physically, which is an awesome question because I've totally been avoiding that in the fic because I've been debating it. So – Kurt's cat characteristics: he has furry ears and a furry tail, and he has fur on head as well, instead of hair – it's not short fur, though. It's long and resembles hair, though the texture is more fur-like and it's very fine, so it gets tangled easily. His fur also extends more around his face and neck than normal human hair would. Also, his eyes and facial features are cat-like. However, they're not so cat-like that it prevented Tom from disguising himself as a human with facial features that are just uniquely distinctive. And as you've seen, Kurt also has cat-like qualities: he liked the shiny Christmas balls and lights, he enjoys being petted and sort of rubs up against Blaine when he wants physical affection, he curls up on Blaine's lap, is curious but also likes to laze about, likes his stomach rubbed when he really, really trusts someone (not at that point yet with Blaine, but he was with his human mother), purrs and meows, all that kind of stuff. Hope that clears it up a bit!**

**Also – this is technically part one of this chapter. Second half will be up soon, once I get the chance to go over it and fix a few things. I'm sorry about the cliffhanger at the end of this one, but it will all work out, and I really want to do justice to the next scene before posting it.**

Over the next few days, under Blaine's tender care and guiding hand, Kurt's wounds gradually began to heal, his strength returning slowly. The two had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of life, not fully at ease with each other, but each growing used to the other's presence and mannerisms. Blaine still attended the shelter, but had cut down on his hours, feeling uncomfortable leaving Kurt by himself for long stretches of time.

Not surprising to Blaine, since he had come to realize it was typical of cat hybrids, Kurt napped fairly regularly. Sometimes it was gradual, when the two were watching a movie, Kurt curled in Blaine's lap, and his eyes would slowly flutter shut, burrowing his warm face into Blaine's legs. Others, it was sudden – they would be talking, and almost comically, Kurt's eyes would widen adorably as if suddenly realizing how exhausted he was, his mouth stretching into a yawn, pink tongue slipping out to lick at his lips before his eyelids drooped drowsily and Blaine tucked him into bed.

Blaine often gave Kurt his own space as he napped throughout the day, not wanting to crowd him. He checked on him from time to time but took the opportunity to stop by the shelter and converse with fellow veterinarians or see his more regular patients. Returning home to Kurt, though, did inexplicable things to his heart; he was still getting used to the luxury of it all, of coming home to someone who was happy to see him, who benefitted from his care, who he could actually keep safe in his home and not be forced to send back into society. He worried, though, when he wasn't there, whether Kurt would wake from a nightmare, as he tended to during nights, only to see that Blaine wasn't there with him, whether he would wake up ill with no one to turn to, to rub his back and warm a washcloth to soothe the headaches and stomachaches that so often disturbed his sleep.

Today, though, Kurt was just sleeping soundly on the floor in front of Blaine's radiator. Blaine had offered the couch and bed to him, but Kurt had refused, already half-asleep, and Blaine had settled for bringing him a few blankets and cushions from the couch, even though Kurt had ignored them. He had a definite tendency to choose spots on the floor when left to himself. It worried Blaine, who could only guess that it stemmed from Kurt's previous life. Kurt actually had yet to tell him almost anything about what he had gone through; Blaine had a vague idea from what he had seen hybrids go through, but he didn't want to pry, so he steered around the topic unless Kurt happened to bring it up.

He softly stepped closer to a sleeping Kurt. He didn't miss the way Kurt began to squirm as he heard the footsteps, didn't miss the way Kurt's eyes jolted open, wide and anxious until they trailed up Blaine's legs and met his face.

Blaine fought to keep the concern from showing on his countenance, knowing how sensitive Kurt was to even slight changes in his expression. He knelt beside Kurt.

"Did you sleep well, kitten?"

Kurt's face darkened, but he just nodded, brushing his face up against Blaine's leg until Blaine soothed a hand across the warm fur on his head, finding the spot behind Kurt's ear that never failed to bring out a light purr.

Kurt's stomach clenched and knotted inexplicably, but he pushed the feeling away, just lying on his back. His gaze climbed up Blaine's body, his legs crossed indian-style, one hand in his pockets, the other cupping his chin as it rested in his hand, his shirt – unbuttoned a bit at the top, the stubble on his cheeks.

"It's so nice to come home to you. I miss you when I'm not here."

"I missed you, too," Kurt said shyly, quietly. He was so adorable, Blaine couldn't breathe for a moment.

"You slept for quite a while, then, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Soundly, I hope?"

Kurt hesitated. "For the most part."

Blaine paused, wondering whether it was an invitation to pry, then deciding against it. "I'm glad, Kurt. Really glad," he said carefully. "Your cuts are looking much better, from what I can see just now."

"Yeah, it's…. they're definitely healing a lot faster than they were before. It was hard to keep them clean before, you know."

Blaine didn't know, though, and he couldn't help the way his heart leapt up and pushed the words from his mouth. "I'm sorry it was hard for you before, kitten. I can't say that I know, though. What it was like, I mean." he said, his voice almost a mumble.

Kurt's eyes were wide and shocked for a moment before he turned away, burying his face into the couch cushion Blaine had placed by him earlier, and Blaine sagged a bit. Not controlling his impulses and asking Kurt before he was ready was the last thing he had wanted to do, but he had done it nonetheless, and he could have kicked himself, really, he could have.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," he blurted almost instantaneously. "I shouldn't have… it's not my place to bring that up. I just – it's hard to control myself."

Kurt didn't turn around, but his thin frame trembled.

"I really am sorry, you know. Would you like me to go? I don't want to be here when you don't want me to be. You need time by yourself, to process everything."

A small shake of his head.

"Okay. I'll stay, honey. Just right here with you."

Blaine could see the tension in Kurt's frame, the way his elegant fingers were hooked around the edges of the cushion, clutching it anxiously, the way his feet were arched and twisted about one another, his tail not relaxed on the floor at his side but curled upward. He thrust his other hand in his pocket to hold back the temptation to reach out and rub his back.

"You don't need to talk to me about anything you don't want to, or aren't ready to. You don't have to talk to me at all. You don't owe me anything of the sort. I'll just sit right here, waiting. I just want you to be comfortable. Happy, too, but I'll settle for comfortable right now."

A few minutes passed. Blaine felt helpless. He just wanted to lie next to Kurt and pull him into his arms until they couldn't breathe, drowning in each other's scents, until Kurt's tears all spilled from him and none were left, until all that was left was _them_, Kurt and Blaine, happy and safe.

"I am sorry, you know."

Kurt's fingers unclenched, and he turned around slowly. "It's not that – I just, I don't understand why you're sorry. I should be sorry, Bl-" Something inside of him prevented him from saying Blaine's full name, and he just trailed off helplessly.

Blaine's eyes wrinkled at the corners. Not in the way he did when he was smiling, laughing – they just looked pained. Pained, but energized; never weary. "Baby, no. Whatever you've been through, that's your story, to share with someone you trust. You don't owe anything to anyone, especially not something as intimate and personal as that. It's totally okay to not want to tell me - I never want you to feel like you have to apologize for feeling uncomfortable."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you," Kurt murmured. Blaine's brow furrowed in spite of himself, and Kurt couldn't bring himself to explain that Blaine was just so lovely, so gentlemanly and sweet and _perfect_, and Kurt just… Kurt didn't want to ruin him, didn't want to burden him with his story and worthlessness. He had ruined enough people's lives already. And Blaine – Blaine wouldn't be able to care for him anymore, not if he knew what Kurt had been through, so much that Kurt was hardly even a person anymore.

Who would want to hold and care for and love someone who was worthless? Kurt couldn't risk the last remnant of love he had left in his life, and sat silent, willing himself to not turn away from Blaine. He had taken Blaine's time, home, food, medicine – he could at least look him in the eyes – eyes were so caring that they pierced through him painfully.

Blaine sensed the need to change directions for a while. "That's alright, honey. Are you up to doing anything, or would you rather just rest?"

"Whatever you want."

Blaine bit his lip to repress an overly harsh-sounding 'it's not what _I_ want, it's what _you_ want.'

"I want whatever you're feeling up to doing."

"I'm… I'm sorry. You sound – you sound angry."

Blaine could have kicked himself at the way Kurt's small frame tensed, cowering back against the cushions and shivering. "No, Kurt, of course not. I just want to make you feel better, you know that."

Maybe somewhere distant in the back of his mind, Kurt knew that. He knew it logically, but it just didn't register emotionally. It wouldn't resonate anywhere within him, like for some reason it was hitting the wrong frequency.

"At least, I want you to know that."

Kurt's eyes looked pained.

"Shhh, kitten. We'll work on it, alright? We have all the time in the world for you to get better, one step at a time."

One step at a time… but what if Kurt couldn't handle it, what if he needed to backtrack a step or two, how would Blaine react when he realized what a disappointment Kurt really was? And, worst of all, what if he brought Blaine down _with_ him? After all, no one had been able to handle Kurt for long.

Something was wrong with Kurt. He was sure of that. He just needed to work it out internally, before he had a chance to ruin Blaine, just like Kevin, just like all the others…

He felt a bit uncomfortable beneath Blaine's gaze and kind smile, despite the way warmth crept into his stomach, curling itself up his torso and settling into his heart.

"So," Blaine said conversationally, the little smile still on that achingly beautiful face, "What would you like to do?"

Kurt wasn't tired, and he felt horrible making Blaine sit around watching him sleep. "Whatever you'd like."

Kurt obviously had never had the opportunity to make many decisions on his own, Blaine realized, somewhat painfully. "Okay, baby. Well… hm. I have an idea, but it probably sounds a little silly."

As if anything perfect Blaine said could ever be silly. "Mpf. Try me?"

"Well, when I was little, I always wanted to make a blanket fort, but my parents were on the strict side, and now there's not really anyone who wants to build one with me. I guess I'm a bit old, but…"

Kurt leapt at the opportunity to do something to make _Blaine_ happy for once, though in the back of his mind, he did wonder if Blaine had done that on purpose. Whatever the reason, he couldn't bring himself to care. Besides, Blaine always had seemed a bit spontaneous and shenanigan-y. "Of course," he said softly, taking Blaine's outstretched hand and pulling himself up.

"Kurt, it's so good to see you getting your strength back."

Kurt smiled, keeping his hand in Blaine's when Blaine didn't seem to want to let him go.

"Come on, let's go see what sheets I've got laying around."

.o0O0o.

"This is nice," Kurt said simply, lazing back against the pillows behind him and looking around at the comforters draped haphazardly across stacked tables, pillows piled about them in a circle of sorts, sheets over the window that shed a pretty purple light over the room.

"Isn't it?" Blaine mused rhetorically, pushing a sheet to the side and bending to enter, taking a seat opposite Kurt. He pointed to a quilt above their heads that was caving in a bit. "You see that one?"

"Yeah. It's beautiful."

"Mmm. Well, it's an Anderson family heirloom of sorts. I spilled cherry juice on it once when I was little. I swear, I never heard the end of that one." He chuckled good-naturedly. "I guess it all comes to pass, though, in the end."

"So I've heard."

Unwilling to let their comfort take the tone of awkward seriousness, Blaine went on. "God, Kurt, I'm so glad I had you here to reach the tops of those bookcases. They were always just the slightest bit too tall for me."

"Saved you quite a bit of standing on chairs, I would venture to guess?" There was a little light behind Kurt's eyes, and Blaine could have just given him a bear hug, right then and there.

Blaine looked Kurt up and down objectively. "You're tall for a cat hybrid, aren't you?"

"Yeah, a bit," Kurt hummed. "My mom used to tell me I'd reach the sun one day if I kept climbing the air that fast. I told her I wouldn't just reach it, I'd pass it up until I could look down on the world, see absolutely everything."

"Ah, an ambitious child, I see." Blaine teased. "Though I can't say I didn't have a bit of that in myself."

"Oh no?"

"Mm. I'd spend hours banging at the piano, trying on my mom's shiniest clothes, pretending I was Liberace. My father wasn't thrilled to say the least, but hey, eventually my banging turned into something resembling a tune, and I've done pretty well for myself performance-wise, so that's enough for me."

"I've always sung. Never learned how to play, though."

"Hmm, we'll have to remedy that at some point."

"We will?"

"'Course. It'd be a sin not to learn how to play the piano – I mean, look at those gorgeous, long fingers you have." He held his hand against Kurt's, casually comparing the lengths of their fingers. "See? Mine are all short and stubbly. There was a day when I felt I could kill to have fingers like yours."

"Yours are thicker, though. Stronger."

"Very true. I suppose it's all give-and-take."

"Ideally," Kurt chirped before suddenly realizing the weight the word held. Ideally. Everything worked _ideally_. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't some things just… work? The way they're supposed to?"

Blaine sensed the intention behind Kurt's question. "Well, Kurt, I mean... everything works in theory, I guess. I mean, hybrids are supposed to find a human and fall in love, or maybe fall in love with each other and find a human willing to care for them, and I mean… it's all supposed to fall into place. I think the problem is just… people are selfish, is what it comes down to. Everyone's out for what's best for their own self, and those who are in more vulnerable positions happen to be exploited."

Something shook deep in Kurt's core, and he was at once heaving, tremors beginning in his heart, coursing outwards to every inch of his body, almost until there was nothing left. "He beat me," he managed. "Every day. Every single day, he'd come down to the basement, where he kept me chained up, and he'd just… I could never do anything right for him." Kurt fought the urge to look into Blaine's eyes, knowing he would never finish if he did, and soldiered on. "I could handle it if it was just… if it was just him taking out his anger or resentment or anything, but _no_. He'd tell me to not fall asleep, make me stay awake until I didn't even know how long it had been, just sunrise after sunrise until I couldn't take it anymore. But I _tried_, Blaine. I _tried_. I tried harder than I had ever tried at anything, ever, in my entire life, tried to obey him, to make him happy with me. But I couldn't even do _that_ right, follow his simple little instructions. And then he'd come down, once I fell asleep, and he'd have… I don't know, it varied, sometimes a stick, sometimes a whip. And he kept me in that collar, and I couldn't go anywhere, and I'd hide in a corner, but I knew it was coming, and I knew that I deserved it, and he told me how bad I'd been, made me say it to him, how I could never do anything right-" Kurt gasped for air, his phrases coming out in short, stuttering bits.

And then he felt a soft cotton tissue press to his face, its light blue color turning dark and wet – and Blaine's hands were so gentle despite the callouses, and his body looked so warm and solid, and those _eyes_, those painstakingly beautiful and heartaching eyes, tears glinting like specks of gold.

Kurt lurched forward, grasping for something, anything, just Blaine, and Blaine caught his trembling body against his chest. He held him tightly, stroking his ears, the fur atop his head, running his hands up and down Kurt's back desperately.

Kurt couldn't stop, not until everything was out. "There were others, but he was the worst, and he just wouldn't even feed me sometimes, not unless I earned it. I tried, I always, always, tried, but there's only so much time you can spend trying before it loses meaning."

The stories of the others came cascading from his blubbering lips – of Kevin, of Ben, of his parents, of the animals at the shelter. Blaine was silent, save for his hands rubbing Kurt's back with just the right weight, save for the gentle yet pained rise and fall of his chest beneath Kurt's body. And when it was all too much, when Kurt couldn't talk anymore and needed to pause, he clung to Blaine, fisting his hands in his shirt, and Blaine clutched Kurt to his chest like he could never let him go, whispering comfort and affection into Kurt's ear until he felt he couldn't breathe from the intense intimacy of it all.

"I'm so sorry, precious, you didn't deserve _any_ of that, no one does."

"You don't understand, I – "

"Kurt, _beautiful_, no one has the right to tell you to do things like that, things that no one can do, and then punish you for them."

"No, it's – I'm not good at this, Blaine. I'm not good at being a hybrid. No one _wants_ me, they just beat me. There's something wrong with me, I just… I just can't please anyone, not them, not me, not anyone."

"I know I can't teach you this right away, Kurt, because it's something – well, it's something you just have to _feel_, somewhere inside you, but you're _perfect_, so sweet and caring and trusting and affectionate and just wanting to make people happy, to feel whole. Your body, Kurt, is _precious_. It's a marvel of science and art and everything that's wonderful, and no one, _no one_ has the right to lay a finger – no, a single _cell_ on you, when you don't want them to. That's abuse, plain and simple." Blaine buried his face against Kurt's fur, trying to surround him with comfort and love, desperately wanting him to believe him, to let him block out everything that sought to harm him.

"How can it be abuse if I deserved it?" Kurt choked, his voice muffled against Blaine's neck.

"Kitten, there's nothing in the world you could have done to ever deserve that. Nothing is wrong with you – nothing could _ever_, ever be wrong with you, not the way I see you being so lovely, so endearing and trusting – Kurt, everything you do, it just lights up my heart. There's humans in this world who are horrible, horrible, people, going on power trips at the expense of others-"

"How can _they _be horrible, Blaine? I'm the one who-"

"Sweetheart, what they're doing says everything about them and nothing about you. You came across the wrong people, is all. There's good humans in this world, there really are. There's so many people who would love to have you and cherish you and love you."

Kurt didn't respond and cried into Blaine's chest until he could no longer force out any tears. Blaine's words of comfort fell about his body, scattering themselves around his limbs and rolling off of him, but some – some stuck with him, and that was enough, for then.

"Thank you," he murmured, feeling guilt eat at him for burdening Blaine with this, feeling that the least he could do was thank him. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"No, honey. I'm so lucky to have _you_, right here with me. I know this is hard for you to get through, it being so much at one time, but… you're not alone. We'll get through this together, step by step."

"Together?"

"Of course. I'll never leave you alone, Kurt. You're worth so much to me."

There was something about the simplicity of that phrase that calmed the wild, overwhelming sadness in Kurt's chest. Placated and weary, he allowed his eyes to drift shut. He didn't allow his spirit to float away into escape as he slept, as it normally did – rather, he felt it melt into Blaine. Something about that felt ever so right.

.oO0Oo.

When Kurt awoke, it was still dark. Moonlight streamed faintly through the sheets, but all was still. Blaine's chin was heavy against the top of Kurt's head, his arms warm and tight around his tired body. Kurt pulled away and examined him achingly. His cheeks were stubbly and just the slightest bit rough, yet somehow even more perfect in that state. His berry lips were parted just slightly, and moisture shone between them. As Kurt trailed his eyes further up his face, from the long, dark curls to the crust that collected at the corners of his eyes, he felt guilt seep into his body.

Blaine was so perfect, so pure, so lovely. So opposite from Kurt. And he'd said they'd figure this out _together_. Kurt had ripped Blaine from this perfect, beautiful, live and thrown him into the havoc that pulsed through his own. Kurt had broken Blaine's sweet, loving heart with the filthy tales of what had happened to him. Kurt had stolen his time, his house, his attention. Kurt had brought him down to his level, to the point where Blaine cried beside him as he regaled him with things that should have never left his past and his nightmares.

Kurt was _ruining_ him.

It was with a sharp, throbbing pain in his heart that Kurt slipped out of Blaine's arms, planted a final kiss on his cheek, and made his way out the back door and into the black of night.


End file.
